A Night Without Stars
by Aster912
Summary: Sequel to White Flower, Silver Moon. NarcissaRemus, AU. Remus battles his feelings of betrayal and love to take Narcissa under his wing after a curse destroys what's left of her memory, leaving her alone in the world.
1. Cold

**Author's Note: This is the sequel to my first Narcissa/Remus pairing, White Flower, Silver Moon. While writing WF,SM, I was asked by several people to make the ending A/U. Because I already knew how I wanted the story to end, I have appeased them by taking up where the first story left off.**

**A Night Without Stars is A/U, and takes place a few months after the end of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. There are several HBP spoilers, so if you haven't read it, and don't want it spoiled, you probably shouldn't be reading this. Also, you WILL NOT understand this story unless you have read the prequel, White Flower, Silver Moon, so I would suggest you read that first. I'm not trying to promote my own stories; just trying to make it a little easier for you. ;-)**

**Once again, I will say that I do not own the characters, places, or themes of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series. All plotlines, however, are original and of my own creation.**

**I hope here I satisfy everyone who said they wanted an A/U ending.**

**Happy reading.**

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* * *

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It was so terribly cold in the prison. The presence of dementors kept the fortress so icy that one could hardly breathe for their chattering teeth. Nobody could be assigned the post of doorkeeper, so there was a sign-in sheet standing before a locked door, and a bin for placing one's wand.

The woman who had come to visit stepped forward, but did not remove her cloak. It was far too cold for that. With one hand, which did not shake, she picked up the quill and wrote:

Visitor: Narcissa Black Malfoy. Age: 36. Visiting Prisoner: #46543. Lucius Abraxas Malfoy.

Her hand slipped a little as she wrote the last name, but was steady as she placed the quill on the table, withdrew her wand, and placed it into the bin.

A mechanical-sounding voice said, "One wand, twelve inches, maple, phoenix-feather core. Property of Narcissa Black Malfoy, age 36."

The thick iron door in front of her slowly opened. She tensed.

"Prisoner #46453, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Cell Block 6, Cell 694."

She slipped through the iron door, wrapping her cloak even closer around her, and started down the long, thin hall. There were no dementors to be found; thankfully, they were kept away during a conjugal visit. But even their absence did nothing to warm the freezing hallways. She shivered.

She was thankful that she could not see the occupants of most of the cells. Many of them were lying in their beds, silent – hopefully sleeping, but more likely gone completely mad. There on the wall, she could see it. The tiny wooden plaque, still fresh after only a year compared to some of the plaques.

"Prisoner #46453. Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. Charges: Death Eater Activity, Breaking and Entering Ministry of Magic, Attempted Murder, Usage of Unforgivable Curses. Sentence: To Be Sentenced In Future."

It was two days before Lucius' trial. Narcissa was shaking from head to toe now. She knew that conviction was more than likely. She read the plaque once again.

He has done all these things, she thought, but he is still my husband.

She touched the icy bars of his cell, "Lucius!"

He was sitting in the corner of his cell, knees drawn up to his face, arms wrapped around them, rocking back and forth. When he heard her voice, he lifted his head, and his gray eyes flickered with life.

"Narcissa!" he croaked.

He crawled over to the bars, desperately weak, and thrust his hand through them. Narcissa grabbed it, kissed it over and over again.

He was not the Lucius she had last seen a year ago. His long silver-blonde hair was limp and scraggly, and he had grown so very thin. Tears filled her eyes when she remembered the handsome, confidant man she had married. She could see very little of him in this man before her.

Lucius' voice was raspy, "Draco – where is my son?"

Narcissa's blue eyes filled with tears.

"I tried, Lucius, I tried so very hard."

Lucius closed his eyes, "He is dead?"

"No!" Narcissa clung to his hand more firmly, "But he could not carry out his orders, Lucius, I knew he could not."

"Then – how can he not be dead?" Lucius whispered. "How could he fail the Dark Lord, and still be alive today?"

"It doesn't matter now," Narcissa replied, "He is alive, and he is well, but I do not know when I will see him again."

Lucius shook his head, "I will never see him again, that is sure and certain."

"There is – still a possibility – "

"No," Lucius shook his head again, "I'm done for, Narcissa. This is the end. The sentencing takes place two days from now, at the Ministry. The dementors will perform their kiss – and that will be that." He shuddered convulsively.

"We have to have hope," she said fiercely, "I'm not giving you up without a fight. I love you."

Lucius stared at her. They'd been married almost twenty years, and she'd barely aged a day. Her beautiful gossamer blonde hair had barely begun to gray, and she had no wrinkles on that youthful, beautiful face. Only her eyes showed the pain and hurt that she'd had to endure as of late.

He knew that time was running out. Soon it would be too late. He'd be worse than dead, and Narcissa – Narcissa would be an empty shell, devoid of memory. She would forget him, forget her son – forget everyone.

He swallowed, "There is something – I must tell you – before – before it all happens."

Her eyes widened, "What is it?"

He shook his head, "Not yet. Someone else is coming to see me. You'll have to wait outside while I talk to him. Then I will tell you everything."

"Lucius," she asked, "who is he?"

"Someone who can ensure your survival. Someone who can help Draco," he replied, "if he so chooses to. With Dumbledore dead, I don't see what our chances are. But you will be alone, Narcissa – and you will forget me."

"Never," she said fiercely, "I love you, Lucius."

He looked at her sadly, "You love me because you had no other choice."

* * *

Lucius watched in dread as Narcissa was escorted out by a dementor. She cast a terrified look back at him as she left – she would be escorted back in as soon as his next meeting was over. He slumped against the bars and closed his eyes. 

How could it all have gone so terribly wrong? He hadn't wanted to do it – any of it. But Bellatrix had put him into a hole so deep, he could not claw his way out. He sunk deeper and deeper into the quagmire, until there was no hope left. She escaped from Azkaban right before he was escorted there. She – the more ambitious, the more deadly of the two – was still loose, while he, who had only done as he had been ordered, would die in two days' time.

The other door opened, and a man stepped in. Lucius had not seen him in twenty years. His hair was longer than it had been, and very gray. His eyes were still blue, but they looked faded. He was worn and sickly-looking. His clothes were ragged. Life had been even more cruel to him than Lucius had imagined.

"Remus Lupin," Lucius croaked, trying to stand and slipping.

The man stepped forward and offered his hand to help him to his feet. Lucius tried to look grateful, but the man's expressionless face was motionless. He took his hand back.

"You requested I see you, Lucius," he said formally.

"Yes," Lucius managed, "There is something I need to tell you – and I haven't much time left."

"If it's about your son, there is nothing I can do," Remus said, "The Ministry has a bounty on him and anyone else who was involved in Dumbledore's murder."

"My son did not kill Dumbledore," Lucius broke in.

"Be that as it may," Remus went on, "the Ministry has it on good authority that he would have, had Snape not broken in and killed him himself."

"Snape? Snape killed Dumbledore?" Lucius could not believe his ears.

Remus looked away, "There are also rumors that he was forced to do so because he made the Unbreakable Vow on the request of your wife."

"Narcissa?" Lucius could not believe his ears, "What did Narcissa know of it?"

"I cannot say," Remus replied simply. "We can't prove it, of course. And there is little evidence that she would even be tried, much less convicted, as an accomplice. A mother's love is a very powerful thing. Many in the Ministry know she did what she did to protect her son."

"Narcissa would do anything to save Draco's life," Lucius interrupted.

Remus looked at his hands, as if this conversation was costing him pain. "Your wife is very loyal to you, Lucius."

"Remus."

Remus looked up. Lucius was looking at him with pain-filled eyes.

"Twenty years ago – when you last were at my home – "

"Don't say anything," Remus interrupted, "There is nothing to be said."

"There is, and you must hear it," Lucius pleaded, "There is very little time to say it. And she must be protected – I will not be there to do it anymore. I have made a mess of things from the start."

He took a deep breath and told Remus everything: about Bellatrix and Rodolphus' agreements with the Dark Lord, about their plot to bring Lucius into their inner circle, about Bellatrix drinking the Polyjuice Potion and posing as Narcissa in Hogsmeade, and most importantly, about the Auralium Curse that had robbed Narcissa of every memory she'd ever had of how much she'd been in love with Remus Lupin.

When he finished, Remus' face was white.

"So you're saying – when you die – she'll remember NOTHING?"

Lucius nodded miserably, "She'll be alone in the world. No memories, nobody to understand what has happened to her. She needs you, Remus."

"She won't go to me," Remus muttered, "she won't even remember me. You stole that from her!"

"You have to understand," Lucius stammered, "The Dark Lord – "

But Remus was infuriated, "We were in love, and you took that away! You entered into a bribe with the Dark Lord, by accident, of course, but payment due, like it always is! And rather than give up your own life, you took away the memories of an innocent child. She was seventeen, Lucius!"

"Listen to me!" Lucius shrieked, "I know what I did. I'm not proud that I did it. What I'm asking you is if you can sacrifice your pride and look after her for me when I'm gone, or not."

Remus was silent.

"I know what you have been through," Lucius said softly, "The betrayal of your friend Peter Pettigrew. The deaths of Lily and James Potter. And last year – the death of Narcissa's cousin Sirius." He swallowed, knowing that his name was one a list of those held responsible for Sirius' death, "I know that you are currently seeing Narcissa's niece, Nymphadora Tonks – "

"No, I'm not," Remus interrupted, "We broke it off a month ago. She – she couldn't understand why I was so distant."

"I am responsible. I won't say I'm not," Lucius spoke quickly, "But Narcissa is innocent. Draco, too, is innocent."

"Innocent?" Remus asked, "He tried to kill Dumbledore."

"And he wouldn't have, would he, if his father hadn't been involved with the Death Eaters since before he was born!" Lucius replied tartly. "Look, there isn't any time left. Will you help her, or won't you?"

Remus looked at Lucius' pale, desperate face. He closed his eyes and imagined Narcissa at seventeen, the last time he'd seen her. That beautiful face, those sapphire eyes open, pleading, loving. Her innocence. Her loyalty.

Of course she never would have betrayed him. How stupid he had been to believe that. How could he never have questioned it from the start?

He opened his eyes and nodded, "I will look after her. I will try to help your son."

Lucius closed his eyes and smiled, relieved.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Remus nodded again.

"Now," Lucius said, businesslike, "I must tell Narcissa."

"You can't do that," Remus started, "You can't. She won't remember it anyway, when you're gone. Let her watch you die believing that she fell in love with you of her own accord, not because of some curse. She deserves that much."

* * *

A few minutes later, Narcissa was escorted back in. She started a little at the sight of the man in faded, tattered robes standing outside her husband's cell. 

"Lucius," she murmured, dropping down beside him and taking his icy hand through the bars. She saw the man look away.

"I'm sorry," she said to him, "I don't believe we've been introduced."

If anything, this seemed to cause the man more pain.

"Narcissa," Lucius said, "this is a – a friend, of mine. Remus Lupin. You he taught Draco at Hogwarts one year." The man looked fearful, and Lucius hastily said, "Remus, my wife, Narcissa Black Malfoy."

Narcissa rose and held out her hand. Remus took it and squeezed it gently.

"Thank you for visiting my husband at this time," she said softly.

"Don't mention it, Mrs. Malfoy," Remus said just as quietly.

"Narcissa," Lucius said faintly, and she knelt beside him again, "There isn't much time left. I've asked Remus to look after you when – when I'm gone."

"You're not going anywhere," Narcissa's voice cracked, "I won't let you leave me."

"I wouldn't if I didn't have to," Lucius whispered, "You know that, right?"

Narcissa nodded, tears spilling on to her face.

"Don't cry," Lucius murmured, touching the smooth curve of her cheek.

Remus turned away again.

"You have to go now," Lucius told her, "It's time to leave."

"No," she cried, "I can't leave you."

"Remus," Lucius implored.

Remus leaned forward and helped Narcissa to her feet. She was sobbing now. Tears filled Lucius' eyes as he watched the two of them walk to the door.

"I'm so sorry, Narcissa," he choked, "I never meant for this to happen."


	2. Whisper

"Has the Wizengamot reached a verdict?"

"We have, Minister."

"Then will the defendant please rise."

Manacled and shaking, Lucius Malfoy rose to his feet.

Griselda Marchbanks stood grimly and read from a piece of paper.

"Of the crimes of Death Eater activity, breaking and entering the Ministry of Magic, attempted murder, and the usage of the Unforgivable Curses, we find the defendant, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, guilty."

There was resounding applause from the crowd assembled. Lucius' body went limp and his face dropped into his chained hands.

Narcissa shook with terror as her blue eyes filled with tears. Next to her, Remus placed his hand on hers.

"Shh. It will be all right," he lied.

Minister Rufus Scrimgeor rose to his feet.

"I hereby sentence the defendant, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, to death by the Dementor's Kiss." He looked down at Lucius grimly, "May God have mercy on your soul."

"No!" Narcissa screamed.

Her howl was almost drowned out by mutters of approval from the crowd.

The doors at one end of the room opened. A single dementor glided in, towards Lucius' wretched figure. At the sight of him, Narcissa jumped to her feet and tried to run to Lucius, but Remus was quicker. He grabbed her around her waist and yanked her back.

"No, Narcissa! There's nothing you can do for him now!"

"Let me go! Lucius!" she screamed.

"Narcissa, stay back!" Lucius ordered shakily, "Don't come any closer!"

"No!" she screamed, beginning to sob.

The dementor was upon Lucius now. Its wasted hands took a hold of Lucius' tattered collar, and lifted him up towards its hood. Remus could not watch. Narcissa had grown oddly still, although he could not see her face; her back was to him. He closed his eyes.

In a burst of strength, Narcissa wrenched herself free and flung herself over the barrier towards her husband. She yanked her wand out of her robes, pointed it at her husband, and screamed, "_AVADA KEDAVRA_!"

A bolt of green light spat from her wand, straight at Lucius. In the split second before it hit him, his face lit up, almost with joy, at the thought of the horrible end he had just escaped. Then the light hit him and he dropped to the floor, eyes wide, completely still.

He was dead.

Several people started shouting. Remus leapt over the barrier and ran towards her, before anyone else could reach her. Narcissa was shaking, crying, as she stood over the body of her beloved husband. She had killed him to help him escape a more horrible death. Remus felt like crying as he ran to her side.

Suddenly, a bolt of hot pink fire engulfed Narcissa's shaking form. She screamed in pain and horror as it burned. Remus cried out, his own shout mingling with those from the assembled crowd. Everyone was still. Nobody knew what to do.

The fire went out. Narcissa fell to the stone floor, beside her husband, completely still.

Remus ran to her and lifted her unconscious form. "Narcissa," he muttered. She did not move.

"The Auralium Curse," Scrimgeor murmured, stunned. Remus looked up at him.

"She was under the Auralium Curse," he said to the assembled Wizengamot. He sounded shocked, "I had never seen its effects before."

He looked at Remus, who was holding Narcissa in his arms tightly, "You knew about this?"

"Just recently learned of it," Remus replied, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Malfoy asked me for a conjugal visit to discuss what would happen to her afterwards."

"Why you?" Scrimgeor asked, "Who are you?"

"Remus Lupin," he told him, "I'm – a friend of hers. We knew each other at school."

"I've heard of you before," Scrimgeor said, his eyebrows knitted, trying to remember.

Remus interrupted, "Lucius asked me to care for her. She has nobody left in the world. She's been out of contact with her family for several years. I'm willing to do it. I need permission to take her to St. Mungo's. She needs medical assistance."

Scrimgeor's eyes narrowed, "Lupin, this woman is a murderer. She just used an Unforgivable Curse on her husband! She prevented justice from being served!"

"None of which she will remember when she wakes!" Remus cut in furiously. "You can't seriously be thinking of trying a woman who will have no memory at all, and will be virtually unable to defend herself!"

The Wizengamot muttered. Scrimgeor turned red.

Not for the first time, Remus wished Dumbledore were there. He would know what to do for Narcissa. He might even know a counter curse, so she would remember everything. But even if he did, Remus realized, Narcissa was so far gone, she might have suffered permanent damage. Her memory had been completely erased twice. She would be like a child again – completely dependant.

Scrimgeor was consulting with several members of the Wizengamot. Finally, he looked at Remus and said:

"You may take Mrs. Malfoy to St. Mungo's, Lupin."

"Thank you," Remus began, but he was cut off.

"However," Scrimgeor thundered, "the Wizengamot needs to consult about whether or not you are – the right guardian, shall we say, to appoint to her."

Remus stared at him. Suddenly, a particular member of the Wizengamot seemed to stand out from the others. She was a squat witch with short, iron gray hair and a smug, ugly face. Dolores Umbridge, hater of all "half-breeds" as she called them. She had obviously reminded Scrimgeor of Remus' "questionable background." Remus' face went hot with anger.

"You will appear for a hearing this evening at 8 'o clock sharp," Scrimgeor announced.

"If it pleases the court," Remus said angrily.

He lifted Narcissa into his arms and carried her from the silent hall, without another word.

* * *

The hospital ward was dark. Remus sat motionless next to Narcissa's bed, watching her still form, her long blonde hair spread out over the pillow. 

So many emotions were warring within him. He was too old for such nonsense. Too old to be in love. Wasn't that what he had told Tonks?

Poor Tonks. He closed his eyes against the pain, but it came anyway. Even after so many years, he had not yet learned to cast it out.

He had come home to find her packing her things. Her vivid hair had gone mousy brown again, as of late. He didn't know how to love her. He hadn't loved anyone in so long a time.

"Remus – " she had begun awkwardly.

"No," he had stopped her, sighing, "You don't have to tell me anything. I understand."

"I'm sorry," Tonks had said helplessly, standing before a full suitcase, "I just – I can't live like this, Remus. I thought things would be different. You promised to try." Her face was soft, devoid of emotion, but her eyes were dark, accusatory. She blamed him, but she did not have to. He blamed himself so much more than she ever could.

"You're right. I did." Remus had raked his hand through his thinning hair. "But it's a lifetime of loss, Tonks." His voice trailed off.

"You said you would try, for my sake," she insisted, "You promised me."

How could he explain to her that he was too tired to try, too old? That every time he held her in his arms, he could see a woman of seventeen, long corn silk blonde hair swaying in the breeze? How could he make her understand the ache of his heart when he woke in the morning to see wide gray eyes looking at him, as he tried so hard to dispel the dreams he had of staring into sapphire depths? It was so much easier to pretend that nothing had passed between him and the young aunt Tonks never knew. Better to pretend that Narcissa had never existed.

_I tried_, Remus thought ruefully, coming back to earth. _The past doesn't die as quickly as I imagined it would_.

At thirty-seven, he had thought that all feelings had been dispelled, that the love he felt for his friends, and for his young former students, was all he would ever feel again. Romantic love was something reserved for the young, and that was where it would flourish. Why try to feel something he couldn't feel? Why try to fall in love when he could never close his eyes without seeing her gentle smile?

Every night for twenty years, he had tried in vain to forget her. He had not seen her, he could easily pretend she no longer existed. But he could not forget the agony he had felt when she had woken on her bed at the Malfoys', and had not recognized him – or had pretended not to, as he had believed at the time.

Let her go, he had told himself. She and Lucius deserve each other.

And now –

Now, to discover that it had all been a lie? That it was not that she did not love him – but that she did not remember loving him?

Narcissa moaned in her sleep, shifted a little. The hairs on Remus' neck stood on end.

In the light of the half-moon shining outside the window, he could make out her delicate features. How had time, the great ravisher of beauty, managed to overlook this woman? She was thirty-six years old, and she had borne a child. But her figure was as lissome as ever, her face as unlined and youthful as it had been twenty years ago. Of course, she did not look seventeen anymore; there was something rather motherly about her features, and if there had been light in the room, he would have noticed a few stray silver hairs among the gold. But her beauty had been preserved. In features only, she was the same girl Remus had left behind twenty years ago.

Inside – well, only time would tell.

Remus' heart ached. Why, after so long, did he still have feelings for her?

She was so heart-wrenchingly lovely. But it wasn't that. In the curve of her face, in the long gold eyelashes that he had brushed snowflakes from on a winter's night so long ago, there was a darkness of tragedy that he himself had put his stamp on.

_I cast her out. I let her go. I can blame no one so much as myself that her mind is an empty slate this evening_.

_But I will make it up to her_, Remus thought determinedly. _She gave me a second chance, the night she discovered my secret, that I was a werewolf._

_I will make sure that nobody else has the chance to hurt her again._

He stroked the pale cheek, resisted the urge to kiss her.

It was getting late. He was due back at the Wizengamot any minute now.

"I'll be back soon," Remus whispered, "I promise – _Cissa_."


	3. In Too Deep

"Hearing Number 6583965, of Remus Lupin vs. the Ministry of Magic, August 17. Please be seated."

Remus alone remained standing, in the center of the room. He tried to straighten his tie; he had not owned anything decent of his own – most of his better clothes were purloined from Sirius' old things. His suit did not quite fit – he was thinner than Sirius had been – but he thought he looked reasonably presentable. After all, this wasn't a trial; they couldn't convict him of anything?

Yeah, right, he thought, staring at Dolores Umbridge's smug face out of the corner of his eye.

Griselda Marchbanks stood and read of a slip of paper, addressing him.

"You are Remus Joshua Lupin, of 1722 Earlscourt Road, am I correct?"

Remus nodded.

"There is nothing listed here under Occupation – are you employed?" she asked, looking down her spectacles at him.

Remus said clearly, "I am a Ministry-trained Auror."

He waited for the rebuttal; it came.

"Hem, hem," Umbridge coughed. Mrs. Marchbanks turned to her.

"Madam Umbridge?"

"The Ministry has had no record of a Remus Lupin working as an Auror for the past three years," she said in her girly falsetto voice. "I have it on good authority that the defendant and others of his ilk have disbanded from the Ministry and have formed a law enforcement group unto themselves."

"That isn't true!" Remus protested.

Rufus Scrimgeor rose, one hand lifted. "I would like to ask the defendant how he makes his income. Mr. Lupin?"

"Four years ago, I took a position at Hogwarts as the Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher," Remus replied.

"Which you were fired from at the end of one year," Umbridge whispered audibly.

"Objection!" came a voice.

The new headmistress of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall, newly-appointed to the Wizengamot, stood up. Remus felt a wave of appreciation; here was someone credible who would be sure to back him up.

"Remus Lupin chose to resign at the end of one year of teaching for various reasons which he did not disclose to Professor Dumbledore or any members of staff," she said loudly. "I have the paperwork here to prove it," here she held up a thin file and passed it to Griselda Marchbanks, who looked it over approvingly.

Umbridge looked furious.

"Isn't it true," she asked, "that for the past two years, you were involved in an underground anti-Ministry alliance known as the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Objection!" McGonagall called again, her own temper flaring, "This is ridiculous. The Order of the Phoenix was a well-established order known not for its attempts to bring down the Ministry of Magic, but to oppose the rising of the Dark Lord and his followers. The Senior Undersecretary's line on this is completely out of order."

"Defendant will answer, though," Marchbanks replied pointedly.

"Yes, I was and am a member of the Order of the Phoenix," Remus answered, "Is this a crime?" he added mildly.

"Perhaps not," Umbridge hissed, "but it is known that the Order of the Phoenix was comprised of several miscreants and criminals. Are you numbered among them?"

"Objection!" McGonagall shouted again, "Minister," she said to Scrimgeor, "this is ridiculous. There have been negligible reports of criminal activity within the Order. There is no evidence that the defendant was ever involved in any criminal activity."

"Sirius Black!" Umbridge shouted, "Mundungus Fletcher!"

"Be quiet, both of you," Scrimgeor ordered. "Madam Umbridge, I think we are all aware that Sirius Black has been posthumously cleared of all charges. And," he added as an afterthought, "I think it would be wise of you to retain your silence for the remainder of these proceedings."

Umbridge looked furious. Deep down, Remus felt a tired burst of satisfaction. It was rare to see her shut her mouth, and he was glad to have the experience.

"Mr. Lupin," Scrimgeor said, "although you have been cleared of anti-Ministry activity, there is one thing we must consider here."

Ah yes, Remus thought. The big pink elephant in the room. He squared his shoulders.

"You are, as your file at the Ministry states, a werewolf?" Scrimgeour asked, "You have received the bite?"

"I have, sir," Remus said steadily.

"For how many years?"

Remus mentally counted, "Since I was five, sir, so that would be – thirty-two years."

"And every month, do you take steps to – to prevent accidents from happening?"

Remus felt his heart drop into his shoes. No, he did not. Mainly because he could not. With Dumbledore gone, and Snape having deserted the Order, there was nobody skilled enough to concoct a Wolfsbane Potion every month. He had taken, as he had when he was a child, to having himself locked in the basement of his house as Earlscourt Road – or of Stunning himself unconscious in the evenings, which rarely worked and were too dangerous to rely upon.

Scrimgeour took his hesitation for its true meaning. "I see," he said.

"Just a moment," someone called from the third row.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror who had been a year or two behind Remus, stood up.

"After witnessing the spectacle of Malfoy's trial this morning," he said, "I took it upon myself to read up on the subject of the Auralium Curse. I thought it might be useful to this hearing. I have the information right here." He waved a piece of parchment in the air.

"Read it, please," Scrimgeour said.

Shacklebolt cleared his throat.

"_The Auralium Curse was created by the wizard Caesarion Maximus of Rome, in 26 B.C, after he and his wife lost their only son to a childhood illness. Aurelia begged Maximus to find a way to end her pain and sorrow, and Maximus created the Auralium Curse in her honor. By casting the curse upon his wife, he erased all memory of her life up until that moment, thus destroying the painful memories along with the good. The curse lasted until Maximus' death in 4 B.C., whereupon Aurelia's memory was wiped clean of the memories he had given her. Unable to comprehend who she was or why she felt the traces of déjà vu she could not understand, she went insane and died only a year later._

_The Auralium Curse is considered highly dangerous and inadvisable to perform even under the direst circumstances. The victim of the curse is subjected to horrible pain, followed by memory loss, and the memories cannot be retrieved, up to and upon the death of the one who cast the curse._

_HOWEVER. If the curse is performed by an unskilled or inept wizard, or if the memories erased are particularly moving or important to the cursed party, the memories will not be completely erased. They will continue to come back in flashbacks as déjà vu for the duration of the life of the cursed._

_This curse is banned by the Ministry of Magic in nine countries, including England, Italy, Portugal, Greece, Spain, France, Germany, Austria, and the United States._"

Kingsley looked up from the paper.

At the words "the memories will not be completely erased", Remus felt a flash of hope.

"Then Narcissa may remember!" he said in wonder, hardly daring to hope it could be true.

Kingsley nodded.

"Or," he said soberly, "she may wake up in a terror, forget entirely who she is, and go insane, as Aurelia Maximus did."

Remus quashed that thought. It was too horrible to think about.

"She must not be left alone," he said to Scrimgeour. "She needs someone to look after her – at least until we can ascertain that she is in full control of her faculties."

But Scrimgeour frowned.

"This is true," he said, "But I don't know if you're the one to do it."

Remus flushed angrily.

"I have never had a single accident or harmed another human being," he retorted, "My file would have said so!"

"True," Scrimgeour said, "But one must take the possibility that such a thing could happen."

Remus was breathing angrily. There was nothing he could say.

"Remus!"

Everyone turned at yet another interruption. The doors of the Courtroom had opened, and a plump, motherly, red-haired woman was running in, out of breath and quite distressed. At her heels were two young women, a redhead about sixteen years old who bore a striking resemblance to her, and a girl of about seventeen with mousy brown hair. Both of them looked as nervous as the woman did.

"What is this?" Scrimgeour asked angrily, "State your names and business!"

The woman stopped and looked annoyed, but still worried.

"Molly Weasley, and this is my daughter," she indicated the redhead, "Ginny, and our friend Hermione Granger," here she pointed to the other girl.

"What do you mean by interrupting? This is a private hearing!" Scrimgeour bellowed.

Mrs. Weasley ignored him. "Remus," she said urgently, "I've just come from St. Mungo's."

Remus' eyes widened. "What happened?"

Ginny piped up, "It's Draco's mum, she's – "

Hermione looked ready to burst into tears, "She's gone!"

"What?" Scrimgeour shouted from behind them.

Remus froze.

"She – the orderlies say she must have woken up when they were patrolling the opposite end of the wing," Mrs. Weasley said, "She was gone when they came back to check on her. Her clothes were gone. The hospital gown they gave her was thrown on the floor. She didn't take anything with her – except her wand." She swallowed, "She's gone, Remus."

"No," Remus whispered.

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Narcissa's gone."


	4. Hello

She woke screaming. Her last conscious memory – if it could even be called a memory – was of pain, and she was shocked to wake and find herself in darkness. The sun had set; the lights had not been turned on in her room.

She was drenched in sweat. Her palms were slick to the touch, and when she ran her fingers through her long hair, it was wet and heavy. She could feel sheets, a pillow – she was in a bed. _How long have I been here?_ She thought. _What happened?_

She could not remember. She could not comprehend what had happened to her. There was nobody in the room. She was alone.

She pushed herself into a sitting position, and then swung her legs over the bed. Her feet touched the icy floor, and she gasped, wriggling her toes to get them accustomed to the chill. She padded softly to the bathroom and flipped on the light.

Her face in the mirror looked shallow, emaciated. She touched it in disbelief. Who was that looking back at her? She pulled on the thin hospital gown and shivered. It was too cold to be dressed like this.

There was a bag of things in the corner, sealed shut. A black dress, sleeveless, and a long black robe, thin. There was a long stick – a wand. She vaguely remembered using it, but she could not for the life of her remember how. There was a label attached to the bag, the name of the rightful owner of these belongings. She read it: "Malfoy, Narcissa." The name sounded familiar – _is it my name? _she thought. She opened the bag and slid the dress over her head. Yes, it fit. _These must be my clothes._ She was grateful.

Dressed, she searched through the room for something to comb her hair with. But the bedside table was empty, with the exception of a call button and a newspaper which had been left there by someone – a visitor? She couldn't remember. As she rifled through the drawer, something on the front page of the paper caught her eye.

She unfolded it – it was called _The Evening Prophet_ – and saw two faces staring out at her from the paper. One was of a man who looked vaguely familiar – he had long white-blonde hair and looked emaciated. The other was her own face, staring out at her. She started, and began to read the article with growing dread.

_"OBSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE?_

_The trial of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, age 42, took place this afternoon at the Ministry of Magic, and the supposed conviction went off without a hitch. Yes, Malfoy is no longer at large, but it was not the Dementor's Kiss that ended his life, although that was the sentence pronounced on him by Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour. No, Malfoy was killed by the Avada Kedavra curse – the Killing Curse – laid upon him by his own wife, Narcissa Black Malfoy."_

She dropped the paper on the table.

_I killed this man? I **killed** him!_

She jumped to her feet.

If this was true, then she had limited time.

She had to escape, get away before anyone came for her.

She pulled the cloak on over her shoulders, tucking the hood over her head, and, taking a deep breath, made good her escape.

* * *

Nobody even noticed as she left. Maybe it was a busy time of evening, with some healers coming on and some going off duty, maybe it was because she was considered a low-risk flight, but Narcissa (if that was indeed her name) had no trouble sneaking out of the hospital. She found herself outside on the streets before she knew it, and quickly went in search of a Muggle convenience store. 

She found what she was looking for – a pair of scissors and a bottle of brown hair dye. She pocketed it in the folds of her cloak and locked herself inside the bathroom of the store. The whole process took half an hour. She hacked off her gorgeous long blonde locks and applied the dye. It burned her scalp, and Narcissa winced in pain, but she did not say a word, for fear someone would come in and find her in the bathroom. When it was done, she washed her hair in the sink, yanked her hood over her head, and slipped out the back door into an alley.

When she had walked a safe distance away, she began breathing hard. Where was she going to go? What was she going to do? She didn't have anywhere, anyone she could remember to call family. She didn't have any money.

"Think, Narcissa, think," she urged herself desperately, "You need to get a handle on yourself, girl."

Who was the last person she had seen? Who could she go to? She banged her head against the wall in frustration.

Why couldn't she remember anything?

She reached up and ran her fingers through her short hair. Well, she had disguised herself, hadn't she? It was time to test it in the real world.

Bravely, she squared her shoulders and stepped out in the busy streets.

As she walked, she half-expected someone to blow a whistle, call out her name, or jump out of side-street and tackle her, wrestling her to the ground in chains. But none of this happened. Nobody seemed to notice her as she walked. Was her disguise truly that good?

She walked past a broken-down looking building with a worn-out sign. The Leaky Cauldron. Strange how that name was familiar. She peered inside. It was a pub, an ordinary pub. Nothing unusual about it. Narcissa did not drink. _Perhaps – perhaps I was in there once,_ she thought. But she could not place it.

She was about to turn and walk away when someone coming out of the Leaky Cauldron caught her eye and made her look twice, with shock.

It was a thin boy, short for his age, with a haggard face and a thatch of unruly black hair. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and he seemed morose. He was staring at his feet and walking, not saying anything or looking at anybody.

_He looks so familiar_, Narcissa thought to herself.

And then she remembered!

"James!" she shouted before she could even stop to think, "James Potter!" She ran towards him, tripping a little on her cloak, then catching it up and running faster.

The boy stopped and stared at her in shock. But when Narcissa looked into his eyes, she stopped dead.

"You're not James," she stammered, "I – I must have made a mistake." The James Potter she remembered had hazel eyes, and this boy's eyes were green.

"You didn't," he said slowly, "I'm not James. I'm his son, Harry."

"His son?" Narcissa asked incredulously, "James Potter's married?"

"He WAS married," Harry replied, giving her an odd look, "Years ago, of course, I mean."

"But you – you must be sixteen years old!" she returned, her eyes widening.

"Seventeen three weeks ago."

"But it can't have been that long since I last saw James!" Narcissa replied, "It can't have been sixteen years!"

"It would have to be," Harry replied, "My father died sixteen years ago this month."

* * *

She did not believe him. She refused to believe him until he took her on the bus to an ordinary-looking cemetery. The sign on the wrought iron fence read "**Godric's Hollow Cemetery. Founded 1872**." He walked ahead of her, not even looking behind to see if she was still there. And Narcissa followed slowly, trying to comprehend how seventeen years could have gone by, without leaving a mark, in her mind. 

"It's far too warm for that cloak," Harry said as they pushed the gate open, "You should get rid of it. Why were you wearing it, anyway? It's high summer." He gave her an odd look.

Narcissa did not want to admit that she did not know. "I really have no idea," she said cautiously.

Harry looked at her sideways, "You look terribly familiar. Have I seen you before?"

_I wouldn't know even if you had_, Narcissa thought ruefully. "I doubt it."

They walked between the gravestones, picking their way through. Finally, Harry stopped and pointed.

Narcissa felt her knees go weak. She knelt down on the soft grass and stared at the headstone in front of her.

**James Charles Potter, loving husband and father. Requiescat en pace.**

The date of death was written underneath – just as Harry had said. He'd been telling the truth.

Narcissa turned to the headstone next to his.

**Lily Evans Potter. Dear wife, dear mother. Requiescat en pace.**

Lily!

Narcissa gasped. Her eyes filled with tears.

Red hair – those huge green eyes. She looked up at Harry. So that was where he got those eyes. Lily Evans and James Potter! How could she have forgotten them?

She reached out and traced the letters of her old best friend's first name.

"Lily," she whispered.

"You knew my parents," Harry said quietly. It was not a question.

Narcissa nodded.

"A long time ago," she said, "When I was in school. I hadn't seen them – in so long." She took a deep breath and dried her eyes. Then she looked up at Harry.

"How did it happen?"

"How did what happen?"

She gestured to the tombstones, "This. How did they die?"

For a few minutes, Harry had thought maybe she was a little off. Now he thought she was just plain crazy.

"You must know," he said, staring at her, "Everybody knows."

"I don't," Narcissa replied.

"You can't be serious," Harry said, "I don't think there's a living person in our world who doesn't know. If you really don't know, then I expect you're the first."

She shook her head.

Harry's eyes widened a little. He bent, conspiratorally, then glanced around suddenly and shook his head.

"It's too dangerous, sitting around here talking," he said, "Come on. We should get indoors. Do you want me to take you to your home?"

Slowly, she shook her head.

"I don't really have a home to go to," she said.

"It's all right, you can stay with me," he replied, "I have a place, in London. Come with me."

As they hurried back to the main road, Harry realized, in the stillness, that he had not asked her name.


	5. No Truth or Dare

"Idiot!"

A hand slapped Draco across the face. He reeled, hit the wall behind him, and touched his cheek, which was burning like fire. He raised his other arm to protect his face, but no second blow came. His eyes shut, panting hard, he thought for the millionth time of how it had come to this, how he had been reduced to cringing against a wall, protecting himself against someone much older than he was.

The figure opposite him shook her palm, which was red with the mark of his face, trying to get circulation back into it. She glowered at him, "How could you be so stupid? How could you let this happen?"

Draco didn't dare answer. He stood in silence, clutching his face with one hand. His other hand dug frantically for his wand.

"Accio wand!" she shrieked. It slipped from Draco's fingers and into her hand. She aimed it at him.

"Don't you even THINK of threatening me again, boy!" she shouted angrily, "I will BREAK you if you try!"

Draco glared back at her, his face hot with remorse, "I didn't do anything!"

She stepped forward quickly, frightening him. "No? If you had killed Dumbledore as you'd been ordered, your father would still be alive today! They moved his trial up only because they wanted recompense! The whole of London knows that you were the one who was supposed to kill Dumbledore! They want revenge!"

"But no," she breathed, running one taloned finger along the edge of his wand, almost caressing it, "you chickened out. You were too scared. And so Snape had to finish him off for you. Your mother was right about you, Draco – you're only still a child!"

"I am not!" Draco shouted.

"Then why did you hesitate?" Bellatrix Lestrange screamed, "Why did you back down, betray the Dark Lord at the very moment you should have been most loyal? He was in your HANDS, Draco, do you not understand? A chance any of us would have killed for – and you let it go!"

Unbidden, Dumbledore's words came back to Draco. Murder isn't as easy as the innocent believe. He banished them from his mind.

"It doesn't matter, does it?" he snapped, "Snape killed him, didn't he? The others don't stand a chance now, with Dumbledore gone." His fury grew, "In any case, what do you care? What do you care if my father's been executed? You never cared tuppence for my father, or my mother, either!"

"Shut up!" Bellatrix snarled, "Shut up, you whining piece of filth! You're just like Pettigrew, that whiny child, too scared to do anything unless someone is always backing him up! You're a fool, Draco. You could have had it all, and you threw it away!"

"And that's what it is, isn't it?" Draco yelled, "You're not mad that I didn't kill Dumbledore, you're not mad that my father's dead. You're mad because you thought I reclaim the family glory, become the Dark Lord's pet, and then you would have your old seat of honor, didn't you? You wanted me to make up for your losing the prophecy!"

Bellatrix aimed his wand at him, "_CRUCIO_!"

Draco screamed. Waves of white-hot light were everywhere. He felt on the ground, writhing and shrieking.

At last it stopped. He lay on the floor, softly moaning.

Bellatrix tossed his wand down, disgusted, "Pathetic," she sneered.

Draco heard her footsteps echo as they walked out away and shut the door. He dragged himself over into the corner of the little room he'd been confined to ever since he and Snape had escaped from Hogwarts, that night, almost three months ago.

He had known that his failure would result in his parents' deaths. But he had not failed, had he? Dumbledore was dead.

But what he hadn't counted on was that he, Draco, had failed personally. He had not done as he had been told. He had hesitated.

And now he was going to pay.

Just like his father.

His father.

Lucius Malfoy had never been the most attentive father in the world; Draco knew that and could accept it. But he couldn't stop thinking of all the times his father had been there – sitting raptly in the stands at every Quidditch game, taking him to the Quidditch World Cup. Draco had never begged his father to take him to games, or do any sort of father-son activities during the summer months. His father was busy, and he'd understood that. But he'd never once wondered if his father had loved him.

Now he wasn't going to be there anymore.

Draco's eyes filled with tears. "Daddy," he whispered.

For the first time since he'd left Hogwarts, Draco began to cry.

* * *

Bellatrix locked the door behind her and leaned against the wall, her face red in anger. She sighed with fury and brushed a few stray pieces of her elaborate hairstyle back into place. 

This wasn't how she had planned things were going to go. Draco was right – Dumbledore was dead, which would make things a whole LOT easier in the future. But it didn't change the fact that, for the second time, her family had failed the Dark Lord.

Her insides still went cold when she thought of Harry Potter laughing ironically, gripping his forehead in pain, as she fruitlessly searched him for the prophecy that had smashed only minutes before. She shivered. The Dark Lord's anger had been without boundaries. He had not waited to save Lucius, but taken Bellatrix and fled.

The family name was ruined forever. Her husband, Rodolphus, had been confined in Azkaban again as well, and Bellatrix was secretly glad. He was not there to share in her humiliation.

The Dark Lord's fury did not stop with the Lestrange family, but extended to the Malfoys. Lucius would pay for his ineptitude, by sacrificing Draco. Draco had been brought to the Dark Lord's hiding place by Bellatrix. His young mother, Bellatrix's sister, Narcissa, had not been allowed in; she trembled outside the door.

The Dark Lord had imprinted his Mark on the boy's forearm. He had screamed in pain, and Bellatrix had kicked him hard. "The Dark Mark is an honor," she had hissed, "Do not scream like a stuck pig."

Then, the Dark Lord had told Draco how he would earn back his family's honor.

"You, and you alone," he had ordered silkily, "will kill Albus Dumbledore. I don't care how you do it; use your own methods, but do it alone. Succeed, and your family's honor will be restored. Fail, and I will kill you – and your parents."

Draco had cast a terrified eye at the doorway that his mother was behind. Bellatrix had squeezed his arm, his freshly burned skin, and he had winced.

"This is one of the greatest honors a Death Eater can be assigned," she had snapped, when the Dark Lord had departed, "and you stand there looking for Mommy and Daddy. Well, they aren't here to help you now – and they won't be ever again, if you fail."

Draco's pale eyes had narrowed and he had yanked his arm away.

"I won't fail," he had said, through clenched teeth. "You'll see."

But he HAD failed. At the last minute, Draco had gotten cold feet, and Severus Snape – whom Bellatrix had ALWAYS disliked – was now in the Dark Lord's perfect favor, rather than the Malfoy family.

Bellatrix kicked the stone wall with one foot. _This isn't the way it's supposed to be_, she thought. Bellatrix Lestrange is always supposed to land on her feet.

"But that hasn't been happening much in the last – oh, seventeen years," a voice drawled. Trixie whirled.

Severus Snape drifted out from behind a corner and leaned against the wall.

"You really ought to be more careful with your thoughts, Trixie," he murmured, "I could hear them all the way down the hall."

"Get out of it, Snape," Bellatrix snarled. "I'm busy."

"Really?" Snape asked lazily, "Yes, I suppose you are – busy bemoaning your own ineptitude, that is."

She glowered at him.

"It isn't MY ineptitude this time, Snape," she said, "And if you hadn't made that stupid vow with my stupid sister, none of this would have happened." Her deep-set eyes glittered, "This could be presumed as YOUR fault."

"Temper, temper, Trixie," Snape smiled morosely, "And speaking of your sister, the Dark Lord has decided to give your nephew one more shot at proving his loyalties."

Bellatrix's eyebrows went up, "Such as?"

But Snape only said, "You're to go to Dark Lord yourself for instructions. Later, you and I will inform Draco of what needs to be done."

Before she could protest, Snape turned on his heel and walked back into the main hall. Bellatrix followed him. Her heart sank into her shoes with every step. So the Dark Lord was going to give Draco one more chance. What would happen to her, and to her family, if he was to fail?

* * *

In his sleep, Draco heard the key turn in the lock. He struggled to open his eyes. His bleary vision could only make out a huge, towering black figure, like an overgrown bat. He tried to sit up, but the creature grabbed the collar of his robes and pulled its face close to his. 

"Do not talk," Snape ordered in a hiss, "Listen to me. You have run out of time, and if you don't do exactly as I say – you're going to regret it."

Draco glared at Snape. It was partly Snape's fault that all of this had happened. If Snape hadn't trailed him, hadn't killed Dumbledore himself – Draco wouldn't be here. He'd be safe with his parents, or just plain dead – and at this point, death was preferable to being locked in a freezing cold dungeon every night.

"The Dark Lord has given you one last chance to prove your loyalties," Snape went on, ignoring Draco's hateful look, "I know that you are angry, even afraid –"

"I am not afraid!" Draco replied loudly.

"Silence!" Snape hissed, "Whatever the Dark Lord threatens, you must say you will do. But you must not do it. Do you hear me? This is your ticket out of here, this is your chance to escape. You must take it. You will not have another chance –"

"So you've told him, Snape?" Bellatrix said loudly, lifting the hem of her robes as she entered the room. Snape shot Draco a look. Don't tell her anything I've said. Draco nodded, imperceptibly, and looked over his shoulder at his aunt.

"I thought I'd leave that honor to you," Snape replied ironically, stepping backwards into the shadows. Bellatrix smiled broadly and looked down at her nephew.

"The Dark Lord is giving you one more chance to prove that you're loyal to him."

Draco stood up bracingly, and brushed the dust off his clothes. He looked at his aunt warily.

"Succeed, and you may buy yourself some time," she went on, "Fail, and it's all over. The Dark Lord has been most generous with you, Draco. Many have suffered death for less than what you've done."

Draco nodded wordlessly.

Bellatrix smiled again, as if she was savoring every single word she said.

"The Dark Lord is lenient. He's given you a task that should be simple."

Draco's eyes flickered over to Snape. Snape was staring at Bellatrix silently, his expression not altering one little bit.

"You've been ordered to kill your father's murderer," Bellatrix finished.

Draco felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "That's all?" he asked, "That simple?" Of course he would kill his father's murderer. Was it even a question? Why shouldn't he avenge his father's death.

Bellatrix looked pleased, "You're a sensible child," she said, "Yes, it is simple, isn't it, to kill someone when they've hurt you so badly?" She smiled at him adoringly, like he was a little boy.

Draco's face darkened, "But -," he hesitated, "I don't know how to do a Patronus Spell."

"What?" Bellatrix asked him, "Why on earth would you need to know the Patronus Spell?"

"To kill the dementor," Draco replied, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world, "The dementor that Kissed my father."

Bellatrix's face was blank for a minute. Then she started laughing, a high-pitched, mocking laugh. Snape's expression was still empty.

"I forgot," she said, "You don't get the paper in here."

Draco stared at her warily. "Then – "

"The dementor didn't get a chance," she went on, "A fool used the Avada Kedavra curse on him. He died instantly."

Draco closed his eyes against the painful mental image.

"The dementors didn't murder your father," Bellatrix licked her lips, choosing her words carefully, "Your own mother did."

There was a roaring in Draco's ears. His knees went weak, he started to fall. There was a rush of black behind him; he felt Snape's arms grab him. He heard voices yelling; Snape was yelling at Bellatrix. He heard her voice, as if from a long way off, scoffing, "He's seventeen years old; he should know the truth!" He tried to clear his head, but he was in agony.

His mother had murdered his father.

His own mother.

"Why?" he burst out, "Why would she do it? You're lying, my mother wouldn't – she loved my father!"

Bellatrix leaned over so her face was close to his.

"Your mother," she hissed, "was at your father's trial with Remus Lupin. Remember him? Your old Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher? One of the sworn enemies of the Dark Lord? Surely you haven't forgotten him?"

Draco grappled with this, "She was Imperioused! Lupin made her do it! He must have!"

"It does not matter," Bellatrix thundered, "While she lives, there is no telling what she is revealing to the Order of the Phoenix. Our whereabouts, our defenses. She sold you out, Draco. She sold us all out. The Dark Lord wants her killed – and you're going to be the one who does it."

Her eyes were glittering with bloodlust.

"And if you don't do it," she whispered, "if you fail – it does not matter. The Dark Lord will kill you, and one of us will kill her anyway. It would be best if you did it, Draco – that way, you can be sure she doesn't suffer – "

Without thinking, Draco reared back and sucker-punched his aunt in the face. Bellatrix gasped. Blood flowed freely from her nose, which Draco had broken. She whipped her wand out of her pocket.

"Enough!" Snape roared. He stepped between them and pointed his own wand at Bellatrix. "_Episky_," he muttered, and her nose realigned, the blood flow stopping.

"You have no choice, Draco," Bellatrix said, her eyes on him. "Now go."

Draco looked at Snape. But Snape's face was still expressionless.

"Go," Snape echoed.

Draco grabbed his wand and stumbled towards the door.

"And," Bellatrix called, "if you try to run, we'll be watching."

Draco looked at her, his face a mask of hatred, his eyes burning with pain.

Then he slammed the door shut behind him.


	6. Lost and Found

"And that's what happened to them," Harry finished, putting his teacup back onto his saucer and avoiding Narcissa's eyes.

Narcissa brushed the tears from her eyes and stared into the depths of her own teacup. "I can't believe they're gone," she said softly, "What a horrible thing to happen to them."

Harry nodded mutely.

"I'm – I'm so sorry," Narcissa said hesitantly. "Please forgive my intrusion."

"It's no intrusion," Harry replied, managing a smile, "I like company. And any friend of my parents' is a friend of mine."

Narcissa smiled back at him. She looked all around her, at the expansive parlor, the winding staircase, the ornate artwork on the walls. "You live here by yourself?" she asked him.

"More or less," Harry replied, "I inherited this house from my godfather, when he died. It belonged to his family. I moved in this summer, after I left my aunt and uncle's house in Surrey. It's not ideal, and sometimes it gets lonely, but I entertain quite a bit. My friends from school, I mean."

"It's – quite large," Narcissa said, for lack of a better word.

Harry burst out laughing, "Go on, you can say it – it's a bit rough."

"Well, it looks as thought it hasn't been lived in for some time now."

"It hasn't. My godfather moved back in two years ago, but after he died, it was vacant for a year. He used to have a house elf, but he lives at Hogwarts now. I wasn't fond of him. Nor was my godfather."

"I see."

Narcissa glanced at the paintings, at the ornate tapestry hanging on the wall. "The artwork is amazing," she said, "Some of it goes back to the middle ages."

"Yes," Harry said, "Unfortunately, we can't get rid of it."

"Why would you want to?" Narcissa asked incredulously, "It's probably worth a lot of money, if you could sell it."

"Well, my godfather's mum put Permanent Sticking Charms on all of it, especially the Black Family tapestry, so we can't exactly get them off," Harry said, "My godfather's family was very big into pure-blood mania – my godfather and I, not so much."

But Narcissa wasn't looking at him. She walked over to a box filled to the brim with old framed photographs that Harry had set aside to be junked.

And suddenly, Harry realized exactly who she was.

Her hair had been dyed brown and cropped, and she looked older and not as well-kept as she had when he'd last seen her, two years ago. But the curve of her jaw, the bridge of her nose, the delicate, high-class figure – there was no doubt that this was Narcissa Malfoy.

His body tensed. He knew that he was under direct orders from Lupin not to hurt her, but to bring her to him. She was out of her mind – she didn't remember who she was, or how she'd come to be there. Of course she wouldn't remember his parents! She would have forgotten everything.

He knew he should feel pity, but it didn't come. This was the mother of Draco Malfoy, Dumbledore's would-be killer. She and Lucius Malfoy had raised their son to be a Death Eater and a killer and God knows what else. His hand gripped his wand.

She lifted a single framed photograph out of the box and stared at it. Her whole body seemed frozen, like a single flawless statue.

Harry willed himself to act normal, "What have you got there?" he asked her, getting up and walking towards her. She didn't answer; she just stared at the picture without looking at him.

Three little girls looked out at them from a silver frame. The eldest had long dark hair and deep-set brown eyes. She was standing with her hand on her hip and smirking insolently out at them. The second oldest was plain child with mousy brown hair and eyes too far apart, sweetly smiling. The youngest was sitting between them, a pixie with long spun-gold hair and big sapphire blue eyes. Her expression was pensive; she was not smiling like her sisters. She seemed to stare right through them.

Harry took the photo from her and turned it over. On the back of the frame, someone had written, "Daughters of Louis and Hecate Black, Bellatrix (11), Andromeda (9), and Narcissa (6)."

Harry didn't realize he was reading out loud until he felt, rather than saw, Narcissa flinch at the sound of her own name.

"This is you," he said, rather than asked.

She didn't move.

"I know who you are," he said quietly, "Your face is in all the papers. You ran away from the hospital. You don't have anywhere to go. You don't even remember who you are."

Narcissa was trembling now, from head to toe. And then, unbidden, Harry felt a flash of sympathy.

_She has nobody_, he thought. _Just like me._

"I can help you," he said softly, "if you can trust me. I can bring you somewhere safe. I can make sure nobody comes for you. You'll be quite safe with me and my friends. Can you trust me, Mrs. Malfoy?"

The corner of her mouth was twitching, as if she didn't know what to say, and Harry could see, in the delicate features of her face, how some would still call her beautiful.

"I haven't anyone else I can trust," she said, so softly he might have missed it.

Harry touched her sympathetically on the arm, then walked over to the fireplace. He aimed his wand, and flames ignited from it. He leaned into the fire and through the flames, into the Weasley's kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley was bent over the stove, making some tea. Harry smiled softly at the sight of her plump, motherly form.

"Mrs. Weasley?" he said.

She jumped a foot in the air and let out a little yelp of fear.

"Harry!" she cried, "You scared me half to death!"

"Sorry," he replied, "Where's Lupin?"

"He's out looking for that poor woman," Mrs. Weasley said grimly, "She's been gone five hours, and still no sight of her."

"Not true," Harry said, "She's here, at 12 Grimmauld Place. Tell him to come here; we'll be waiting for him."

He popped back out of the fire and into the room. Narcissa hadn't moved from her spot. Her eyes didn't look frightened; now they only looked bleak. She looked as if she'd given up entirely.

"It will only be a minute," Harry said awkwardly, for lack of anything else to say.

Almost on cue, there was a knock at the door. Before Harry could reach it, it flew open, and Remus darted in.

"Thank God," he said, shakily. "Narcissa? Are you all right?"

She shook her head, eyes staring at the floor.

"Did something happen? What's wrong?" Remus asked quickly.

She looked up at him with those dead blue eyes.

"How is it," she asked, "that everybody knows who I am – except for me?"

Remus looked at her sadly. Harry was confused.

"Won't you sit down?" Remus gestured to the overstuffed sofa, "This may take a while."

Narcissa slid down. Remus took a seat across from her, in a straight backed chair. Harry leaned against the fireplace.

"You can't remember who you are," Remus began heavily, "because of a curse your late husband placed upon you when you were seventeen years old. The Auralium Curse. It works something like a Memory Charm, only much more permanent. Done correctly, it erases the memory of the victim and leaves only the imprint of what the person who cursed them wants them to remember or believe."

Narcissa did not move.

"Your husband, Lucius Malfoy, put this curse on you at the bequest of your sister, Bellatrix," Remus went on, "He did not want to do it. It was something he regretted until the day he died."

"The day I killed him," Narcissa whispered.

Remus started, "How did you – "

"There was a newspaper," she interrupted, "next to my bed. My picture was in it. It says I killed him."

Remus shook his head, "You mustn't think you murdered him, Narcissa. You did what you did then out of love, which is something nobody can truly condemn you for. Lucius was a flawed human being, but he was not evil; he was misguided, and he had made choices in his life that harmed the people he loved and brought about his ruin. The fate in store for him was horrible, and you saved him from that. You gave him a gentler death, and that is why you are a wanted woman. The Ministry is angry that what they feel is vengeance for Lucius' crimes went unpunished when you killed him."

"I don't even remember it," she said.

"You shouldn't," Remus replied, "The curse was broken immediately afterwards. You will remember nothing from age seventeen on."

"That isn't true," she interrupted again, "I'm remembering – things – unimportant things."

"On the contrary, they're very important," Remus said, "You see, there was a slight hitch in Lucius' plan. He was not a very good wizard. He did not have a lot of talent, and the curse was not as strong as it might have been. Oh, it worked perfectly, for the past twenty years. But now that he is dead, you are beginning to remember scenes from your former life – images that were kept down. In time, you may remember more than we expect you to. Only time will tell."

"Can't you just tell me what happened, who I am? Won't that make things easier?" Narcissa pleaded.

Remus shook his head, "Believe me, if I felt it would help you at all, I would do it. There is so much that you don't know – " His voice trailed off. Then he spoke up firmly, "But memory is a subjective thing, Narcissa. The more you remember on your own, the more authentic we can be sure it will be, and the smaller the chance of corruption. No. This is a path you will have to tread by yourself. But we will be beside you. Your husband asked, before he died, that I look after you, and I aim to do that, no matter what the Ministry says," he finished.

Narcissa smiled at him, a tentative little smile.

"You didn't tell me your name," she said quietly.

Remus felt a chill skate up his spine. This was the third time this had happened to him.

_Whoever said, you never get a second chance at a first impression, didn't have me in mind, _he thought ruefully.

"Remus Lupin," he told her.

For a blind, hopeful second, he thought he saw a flicker of recognition in Narcissa's sapphire eyes.

And then, just like hope itself, it was gone.


	7. Blind

"Do you really think it's a good idea to keep her here?" Harry asked Remus a few hours later, when Narcissa was asleep on the sofa, dead tired.

"It's the safest place I know," Remus replied, "I can't take her back with me, in case the Ministry decides to press charges against her. Not that they'll recognize her anyway." He shook his head, "I can't believe she cut and colored her hair. She looks so different."

Harry privately thought she now strongly resembled Tonks, her own niece, but he didn't think that it was prudent to say so. Instead, he folded his arms and asked, "Are you going to be staying here with her?"

"As often as I can," Remus answered. He could not take his eyes off her.

Harry followed Remus' gaze to the sleeping form on his old sofa. He was struck with the thought that that was not the look a man gives platonically to any woman – but again, he held back.

"I'm going to bed," he said, "Goodnight."

"Harry," Remus hesitated, "Thank you for taking her in."

Harry managed a nod, then turned and headed for the stairs.

"Harry," Remus called again. He paused.

"I saw Ginny Weasley today," he said softly, "She asked after you."

"Did she." Harry was silent. Then he said, "Tell her I'm well."

"I would," Remus replied, "if I could believe it."

Harry looked at him, his expression blank.

"She's worried about you, Harry," Remus said. "And I can't help noticing you are avoiding her."

"My reasons for what I do," Harry interrupted curtly, "are my business, and not yours, Lupin."

Remus chose to ignore his tone, "We are stronger together than we are separated, Harry. Forgive me for saying so, but your parents understood that."

Harry did not speak. He turned and walked up the flight of stairs, and Remus heard the bedroom door shut.

He sighed heavily and turned back to Narcissa.

He smiled as he realized that he'd never actually seen her sleep before today. Could it really have been only this morning that he had escorted her to Lucius Malfoy's trial? So much had happened in one day. He looked at the clock over the mantle. It was nearly three in the morning. Poor Narcissa had finally succumbed to exhaustion. Remus knew that he shouldn't be far behind, but he was too jumpy to fall asleep.

She had fallen asleep with her mouth slightly open, and one arm was thrown over her head haphazardly. He smothered a laugh as he noticed the pale shade of her gold eyelashes in the moonlight, and how much they contrasted with the brown of her butchered hair. She could never truly hide how beautiful she was – no matter how hard she tried.

"Ah, Cissa," he said to himself quietly, "We are who we are."

Her eyelashes flickered a little, and then her huge eyes opened. He started a bit, but then he relaxed when she showed no signs of being frightened.

"Remus," she murmured sleepily.

Was she remembering? Remus hurried to her side and sat on the edge of the sofa. "Are you all right?" he asked her.

"I'm fine," she whispered, "I was just dreaming."

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked.

Her sleepy blue eyes were gazing at the wall behind him, "I was – I was playing with two girls – they were older than I was."

"Your two sisters," Remus said.

She nodded, "And two boys – one of them was younger than me, and the other was older. They were my cousins. They were fighting. And Lucius was there – his parents were there to see me. I was wearing a blue dress."

"Your marriage contract," Remus nodded, "Your cousin Sirius told me about that. Your parents and the Malfoys signed a marriage contract when you were six. I'm surprised you remember that far."

She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, "I wish I could remember something more recent. Do you think I ever will?"

"Anything is possible," Remus replied, "We're lucky your husband was not a very good wizard. He could not erase your memory entirely – he could only mask it."

Her face had darkened again. Remus hastened to change the subject. Adopting a carefree tone, he laughed a little and said, "Tell me, what brought you to ruin your beautiful hair?"

Narcissa took a lock in her fingers and examined it in the dim lights. "I don't know. I panicked. I thought I would go to prison if anyone suspected me. I went into a Muggle shop and cut and dyed it. It does look awful, doesn't it?"

"Nah," Remus smiled, "It's different, is all."

She cocked her head to the side, "You know, I feel as if I knew you before. Did I?"

A chill skated up Remus' spine.

"That was decades ago," he said abruptly, "Back when we were in school."

"You were friends with James and Lily."

He turned to her quickly.

"That's how I ran into Harry," she explained, "I thought he was James."

"You remember James and Lily?"

She shrugged, "A little. Bits and pieces. Mostly the way they looked. Harry looks awfully like James."

Remus nodded.

"Did – did they have any other children?" she asked hesitantly.

"They wanted to," Remus replied, smiling in spite of himself, "James always said he wanted at least a boy and a girl. He kept pestering Lily to try for another one. She was a lot more level-headed than he was; she wanted to wait until they could were sure everything was safe, until they could come out of hiding again. They never had a chance."

Narcissa shook her head, "It's so unbelievably sad – such a waste of life."

"It was that."

"Do you have any children?"

Remus looked taken aback. Narcissa laughed at his expression.

"You don't like kids?"

"Like kids? I love kids," Remus replied, "I taught at Hogwarts for one year. And I love Harry. Now that James and Sirius are both gone – well, he doesn't need me to look after him anymore, after all – but he knows I'm there if he needs me. But no, I don't have any kids of my own."

"Do you have a wife? Did you ever marry?"

Remus shook his head, "Nothing like that."

Narcissa turned on her side and leaned on her elbow, "I love kids."

"Do you – do you have any of your own?" Remus asked her. Perhaps the quickest way into Narcissa's mind was in trying to make her remember her beloved son.

She looked crestfallen, "If I did, I don't remember. Isn't that horrible? A mother forgetting her own children."

"You mustn't be so hard on yourself," Remus replied, touching her gently on the shoulder, "In time, perhaps you will begin to remember."

She smiled at him, "I'm very lucky to have you and Harry, Remus."

Why did she have to smile so? God, she hadn't changed a bit in twenty years, had she? Remus looked at that pretty heart-shaped face, that lovely, gentle smile, and he felt his heart beat faster and faster. _Just like a lovesick schoolboy_, he thought with disgust. _When am I ever going to learn?_

"It's nothing," he said gruffly, turning away from her, "I should be going to bed now."

Narcissa's face darkened slightly, but she tried not to show it.

"Oh – all right," she said awkwardly.

Remus got to his feet and walked towards the door. _Why did I get so gruff with her?_ he cursed himself mentally. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ When was he ever going to learn?

"I – "

He stopped, and turned back to her. How could she have remained so heart-wrenchingly lovely? Her pretty face had fallen, she looked lost all over again.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Did I say something I shouldn't have?" she asked miserably. "I didn't mean to – to upset you."

More than anything in the world, Remus wanted to run back to her, to take her in his arms, and cry out, "It isn't you; it's me, it's my fault you're like this. Yes, I remember you, I was in love with you and I still am, and I'm so sorry this happened, but we're together now and I promise you I'll never let anyone hurt you ever again!" He wanted to kiss that pretty mouth, feel her lips under his, and never, never let her go again.

But this wasn't the movies, and Remus wasn't about to play the lover or the fool, not at this point in his life.

Just because he could admit it was his fault - that didn't mean that he could forget what had happened. The scars were still there, and they still hurt.

_ I loved her blindly,_ he thought_. She has never known the pain of heartbreak, of losing someone. It has always evaded her. If she did, maybe she would understand why I'm putting this wall up between us._

"It's nothing you did," he replied, "Goodnight, Narcissa."

He left the room. Narcissa heard his footsteps echo as he went upstairs, and heard his door shut, as Harry's had before.

She turned over on the sofa and lifted up her wand. "Nox," she whispered, as Harry and Remus had taught her earlier. Alone in the darkness, she pulled the covers up to her neck, and stared at the ceiling.

She did not cry; she was through with crying forever. Yet she had never felt so lost in her life. The clock over the mantelpiece ticked the minutes, and still, she could not sleep. She had a terrible premonition that something was coming, something not good at all. She prayed for sleep to come, but not until the sky began to turn faintly gray outside did Narcissa close her eyes.


	8. How A Heart Breaks

Remus left Number 12, Grimmauld Place the next morning, without saying goodbye to Narcissa. He told Harry he had "business to attend to" and Harry prudently did not ask questions. Remus did not come back that night or any other, leaving Narcissa in Harry's hands, quite alone and wondering why on earth Remus had been so distant with her.

Under Remus' orders, Harry had covered up the elaborate Black family tree, should Narcissa insist on reading it. He had also boxed up all of the photographs of the Black family. It was true that there were very few of Narcissa, but there were many of Bellatrix, who had evidently been Mrs. Black's favorite niece, and Remus did not have to explain to Harry that he feared that Narcissa would go looking for Bellatrix, a search that would inevitably lead to the Dark Lord.

Harry frequently left Narcissa to her own devices, which lead to her eventual boredom, which hit her harder than her fear of being discovered and sent to prison. As soon as her picture faded from the covers of newspapers, and it appeared that everyone had forgotten all about the Malfoys, Narcissa stepped out into society again, this time wearing a borrowed dress of Harry's friend Hermione's, instead of the faded black one she'd worn to Lucius' trial.

Just as she had predicted, nobody seemed to recognize her. Her blonde hair had been too striking to overlook before; her new short brunette cut was too plain to be noticed. Still, even with plain brown locks, she was too beautiful not to be noticed. Self-conscious, she saw men stop and watch her, eyes on the curve of her hips, as she walked the streets. She blocked out their crass words. For the first time that she could remember (and that wasn't saying much), Narcissa didn't want to be noticed.

_Well, that wasn't true_; she amended, as she caught sight of her reflection in the window of Flourish and Blotts.

It wasn't so much that she minded being noticed.

It was that she never caught the attention of the one person she wanted the most to see her.

By her own estimate, she was somewhere around the age of thirty-six – still quite young, and of a marriageable age, should she wish to marry again. And nobody could deny that she was a widow – why, hadn't it been all over the papers that Lucius Malfoy was dead? Of course, Narcissa didn't intend on marrying again. What sort of life would it be, she wondered, to tie herself to a man who claimed to know her inside and out, when she didn't know herself?

_Better to stay alone, not intrude on anyone else._

Narcissa sighed and leaned against the hard brick of one of the buildings.

Of course, it was easy to pretend she didn't care. But when she thought back to the way he had looked at her, that night, when she'd been all alone, and frightened – that longing in his pale blue eyes – shivers ran all up and down her spine.

Had she made it all up in her mind, as fragile and alone as she was? Could it have been pity, and not caring, that he felt when he looked at her?

"Now, stop it," Narcissa chastised herself, shaking her head, "You're not a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl anymore. You're a widow. You shouldn't be making eyes at other men. Your husband's not cold in his grave yet."

_But I don't feel anything_, she thought to herself. _If I knew Lucius Malfoy, it was another lifetime ago. Why should I pretend to feel what I don't?_

A shadow fell over her. She glanced up.

Staring at her from a few feet away was a pair of girls. One was tall, with long, fluffy brown hair – certainly nothing out of the ordinary about her. The other was a shorter, slender girl of perhaps sixteen, exceedingly pretty, with a mane of red hair and a pretty face. Narcissa was startled. The girl with brown hair was looking at her with an expression she could not identify. But the other girl – the redhead – was looking at Narcissa with very thinly veiled hatred.

In two strides, she was standing right in front of Narcissa. Her face was a furious red, almost matching her hair. With clenched teeth, she reached her palm out and slapped Narcissa across the face.

Narcissa reeled. Never in her life had she been struck across the face – and especially not by a stranger. From behind the girl she heard someone cry, "Ginny!"

"I know who you are," the redhead called Ginny spat at her, "Haven't you caused enough trouble already?"

"I don't know – I don't know what you mean," Narcissa managed, grasping her cheek in pain.

Ginny acted as if she hadn't heard, "You come crashing into our lives, as helpless as you are worthless, and you give nothing in return. Harry and Remus are busy enough, without having to worry about you. Why don't you do us all a favor and just get out of it?"

Her friend was beside her in a minute, "Ginny, let's go," she said, "I'm sorry, ma'am, my friend here is just –"

Ginny laughed, a harsh, unfriendly laugh, "Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. Don't you know who this is? It's Narcissa Malfoy – the elegant widow."

Hermione's jaw dropped. Narcissa shrank back, expecting Hermione to call the police on her in an instant.

But Hermione composed herself, and said, "I apologize, Mrs. Malfoy." She seized Ginny's arm and dragged her backwards, "Let's go back and visit your brothers, Ginny."

Ginny glared at Narcissa, "You stay away from Harry, you hear? If it wasn't for you, and all the rest of your family, things wouldn't be this way!"

She shrank against the wall, bowing her head, as she watched them walk away.

* * *

"Go on, Ginny – tell him what you said to her!" 

Hermione looked enraged as she pulled out a chair and pushed Ginny into it. Remus looked up from the newspaper he was reading at the Weasley's kitchen table and raised his eyebrows.

"What is all this about?" he asked blandly. "Hermione? Ginny?"

Ginny crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. Hermione glared at her silently.

Remus folded the paper, "Girls, this is ridiculous," he said firmly, "We have enough difficulties without you two bickering about something pointless. Out with it, Ginny."

"I don't have anything to say to you," Ginny snapped, turning away.

"She certainly does!" Hermione shouted.

"Hermione, that's enough," Remus broke in, "I think it would be better if I talked to Ginny alone about this. If you would leave us, please?"

"Why don't you go snog my brother," Ginny snorted, "I hear you talking about wanting to enough in your sleep."

"Enough, Ginny!" Remus replied, watching Hermione's face go red with fury right before his eyes, "Hermione, I'll deal with this. Go outside."

Hermione glared at Ginny one last time, then turned her back on her and slammed the door behind her. Remus rubbed his temples and sighed.

"What's going on, Ginny?" he asked her.

"It's none of your business," she replied.

"I doubt that," he answered, "I've seen you these past two weeks, Ginny. Something's wrong, and I want to know what it is. Perhaps I can help."

"Help?" Ginny snapped, standing up and planting her hands on the table firmly. Remus was strongly reminded of Mrs. Weasley, "You can help," Ginny went on, "by getting that no-good slut out of Harry's house!"

"Ginny!" Remus' mouth dropped open, "That's a terrible thing to say!"

"It's true!" Ginny shouted, "How dare she live there with Harry? How do you know she's lost her memory? She could have been planted there by the Death Eaters, she could be trying to take advantage of all of us – she could be there to kill Harry!"

Remus stared at her for a minute, then closed his eyes and sighed.

"Narcissa is no Death Eater," he said slowly, "She may have been married to one, but trust me on this – she is not connected to any Dark conspiracy."

"I don't trust her," Ginny said shortly, "And you shouldn't trust her, either. Her whole family is bad news, Remus."

"Sirius was part of her family!"

"Well – he was an exception!" Ginny blustered, "He even said so himself! And look what happened to him, when he got mixed up with her sister!"

"What do you expect me to do with her?" Remus asked acidly, "Put her on the street? When anyone could be looking for her? The Ministry – her sister Bellatrix – the Dark Lord himself?"

"I don't care what happens to her!" Ginny shouted, "I just don't want her there, that's all!"

Remus looked at her hard, "Tell me, Ginny, does this have anything to do with Narcissa Malfoy at all? Or has it got something to do with Harry?"

Ginny looked up at him quickly, "That's none of your business."

"Isn't it?" Remus asked, "Isn't it my business when you want to throw a helpless woman out onto the streets where you know she'll be killed, over emotions that you yourself can't define?"

"You know nothing about it!" Ginny shouted. Her eyes were liquid with tears, "You don't know what it's like!"

"What what is like?" Remus asked her.

"I saw how you treated Tonks!" Ginny cried, furiously wiping her eyes with one hand, "You men are all alike. You don't mind us around when there's nothing better going on – but as soon as something happens, you have to go out and be heroes, and you leave us all behind." The tears spilled out onto her cheeks and fell, hot and wet, to the table, leaving spots.

Remus felt wretched. Just as he'd expected, of course. The girl was in love with Harry, and Harry, fearing for her safety, had sent her away. So this was the reason why they were no longer speaking. So this was why Ginny hated Narcissa so – she could be with Harry every day, see him, make sure he was all right – and Ginny herself could not.

"Sit down, please," he said softly, pulling out the chair for her again. Ginny swiped her eyes again, looking quite as if she wished to defy him, but sat. He sat down next to her and squeezed his icy fingers together.

"What happened between Tonks and I didn't occur because I sent her away for her protection," he began, "Which I think you know very well. Tonks left me because she knew I didn't have it in my heart to love her the way she deserves to be loved. And I would hate for you to think of me as someone who prefers to let others think of him as noble when really he's nothing of the sort."

Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Remus shook his head.

"All your life, you've been treated as a child," he said, "The only girl, youngest in all things. But you're not a child, are you, Ginny? You're sixteen years old, and you have a heart and soul of a woman much older. You're not willing to let the ones you love walk away from you without a fight."

Ginny was crying again, quietly. Remus lifted her chin up until her red eyes looked into his.

"You remind me so much of a girl I knew once," he said.

"W – who?" she asked, sniffling.

"A very dear friend of mine," he replied, "Narcissa."

"I don't want to be like her!" Ginny cried, "I don't want to be anything like a Malfoy!"

"But you are like her," Remus replied, as if she hadn't said anything, "You're both brave and beautiful and loving – and stronger than anyone gives you credit for. You're not willing to give up. You feel so strongly for people – you always put their safety before your own."

Ginny sniffed, staring at him again, "How do you know all this about Narcissa?"

He looked away, letting silence answer her childlike question.

Ginny grabbed his patched shirt, eyes flaming with emotion.

"You loved her!" she cried, "You loved her once, long ago; that's the reason you don't want Tonks, that's why you couldn't love her!"

"Yes, that's the reason!" Remus stage-whispered desperately, "Now forget I said it! You mustn't tell her that, or Harry, or Hermione, or anyone else! Promise me!"

Ginny stared, "Why shouldn't you tell her? She's free of Lucius Malfoy, there's nothing holding you back now!"

"Now isn't a good time," Remus managed, pulling away from her.

Ginny's eyes brimmed with tears again.

"It never is, is it," she whispered, "I've tried to understand, I've tried so very hard – but I love him, Remus – and I'm so scared!"

She covered her face with her hands and began to sob brokenly. Remus wrapped his thin arms around her and pulled her close to him, burying his face in her flame-colored hair. Once he had held Narcissa like this, when she had cried. Once, he'd had all the answers, he had known exactly what to do. And now –

Now, he was as lost as the teenager he was trying to comfort.


	9. The Ashes of Another Life

As the days began to shorten, Draco slowly made his way through England towards London. He didn't know where he would be able to find his mother. He only knew that she was there – and he knew what he would have to do.

The wind whipped through his blonde hair, which was growing shaggy without tending. His teeth chattered together, and he wrapped his thin arms around himself for warmth. It wasn't winter yet, but it was late October – it would be coming soon.

It was too dangerous to travel by day – he was a wanted man; someone would catch him and bring him before the Ministry. He would be killed, just like his father had been. Draco traveled by night, sleeping in culverts or in thickets, whatever he could find. His battered clothes were so dirty, they practically served as camouflage. He was grateful – two months of walking, and he hadn't gotten caught yet.

He thought back to the peaceful days at Hogwarts, when he'd been the envy of everyone in Slytherin House. So what if everyone had labeled him a Malfoy from the minute he'd entered? So what if the Gryffindors, lead by Harry Potter, were always mocking him? He'd had the last laugh – he'd taken their fearless leader away. He'd brought about Dumbledore's end, hadn't he? The man some people called the greatest wizard of all time – and he'd been felled by Draco's plot, even if Draco hadn't been the one to kill him in the end.

Draco shivered in the biting cold. He was almost there – he'd reached York. Only a few more days, and he'd be in London – at his mother's doorstep. He would think about what he had to do then.

But until then –

His mother.

Draco closed his eyes against the memories. But he could not shut them out.

She had always been so beautiful. So many of his pure-blood friends had complained about parents who were distant, parents whose marriages had been loveless, parents who didn't take pride or interest in their children. The Malfoys hadn't been like that. Ever since birth, Draco had been aware of his mother's warmth and kindness, her pretty face leaning over his bed to kiss him goodnight, the smile that magically made everything better, the blue eyes like shining sapphires, the lilting voice.

There was one memory that stuck out in his mind especially. It was the day he'd come home from Hogwarts after his first year, crestfallen, lonely. His marks had not been good, and his father had been upset. Lucius Malfoy had always expected nothing but the best from his son, and said so, over dinner that night.

"_I trust you'll do better next year_," he'd snapped, slapping his newspaper on the table and leaving, his food untouched.

Draco had bowed his head, his stomach so upset he could not eat a bite. He heard his mother push back her chair and hasten over to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and spinning him gently in his chair to face her.

Her face had been like alabaster, her skin so youthful she did not look old enough to be mother to an eleven-year-old. Her huge blue eyes looked sad, but they did not lose their loving look. She touched him gently on his cheek, and her pretty lips curved upward in a sad smile.

"_Remember_," she'd said softly, "_as much as your father and I want you to do well in school – twenty years from now, it won't matter if you got good marks or bad. We will always love you – just the way you are_."

Tears welled in Draco's eyes. He pushed them away impatiently. He was a man now – seventeen – enough with this crying!

If what Aunt Bellatrix had said was true, his mother had not only murdered his father, but she had betrayed her own son. Bellatrix had told him that she was living with Remus Lupin – the werewolf that had taught at Hogwarts during Draco's third year. His blood burned hot in his veins at the thought of his beautiful, delicate mother – always the picture of honorable propriety – with that dirty, ill-kept half-breed. He closed his eyes, but behind them, all he could see was his mother, in her white suit coat and skirt, eyes sparkling under her wide-brimmed white hat, in the arms of dirty, patched Remus Lupin.

_No! I will not let this happen!_

Draco's teeth were clenched in anger. His mother had betrayed him. She was on the "other side" now. She would pass their secrets to Lupin and the others – possibly to Harry Potter himself! She would sell out her own son!

The sun was rising in the east. Draco looked around desperately for a place to sleep. He spied an old barn, long deserted and falling to ruin, along the edge of the woods. He climbed inside a pile of rotting hay and covered up well. Time to sleep at last. He wrapped his arms around himself for warmth, and prayed that, for one night, he would not be tormented by dreams of corn silk hair and the sweet apple scent of her perfume.

* * *

"Lupin, I just don't know," Harry said, pacing the house for what felt like the three hundredth time. 

"What?" Remus asked composedly. He'd come earlier that evening, to stay for supper. Now he was listening to Narcissa as she hesitantly played Mrs. Black's old piano in the parlor.

"I can't shake the feeling that something bad is about to happen," Harry replied, staring at the ceiling. "It started two months ago – and it's only gotten worse."

Remus smiled tiredly, "I'm not really surprised, to be honest. It's dangerous times we live in, Harry – you know that. None of us is truly safe. At any given moment, things can go horribly awry."

"So you think I'm imagining things?" Harry asked belligerently.

"Did I say that?" Remus asked mildly, "Think of your feelings like your scar, Harry. They're warning you that trouble is coming – but trouble is always coming, so don't take it all too seriously."

Harry shook his head disgustedly, "You don't understand. You never did. You were never like Sirius." The words escaped his lips before he could stop them, and he looked at Remus in horror.

Remus didn't react, "I know I'm not. We were never anything alike, Sirius and I. I suppose that's why they were always so exasperated with me." He smiled crookedly, "I was such a killjoy, you know – always bringing them down during their little pranks. So silent, too mature, even."

Harry stuttered, "I didn't mean it."

"Of course you did," Remus replied, "And you've ever right to. I'm not Sirius, and I never will be him. This is why I haven't taken you under my wing, as he might have. You're a man now, Harry – you can make your own decisions. Far be it from me to tell you how to live your life – I've made enough mess of my own."

The piano music stopped.

Remus stood up and shrugged his old, battered coat onto his shoulders, "It's getting late, Harry, and I should not intrude on your hospitality any longer. I'll pay my respects to Narcissa and be on my way."

"Sir, I didn't want you to leave," Harry began.

"There's no need to apologize," Remus smiled, "I really must be going."

"Leaving so soon?"

The two men looked towards the doorway. She was standing there in the doorway, hands on the door frame, eyes slightly narrowed. Remus felt as if he was watching her twenty years ago. His legs felt as if they were turning to water.

Narcissa looked ticked.

"I – I have to go home," he managed to say.

"You always seem to have to leave," she replied coolly, "as soon as I make an appearance." She walked into the room and put her hands on her hips, leveling her gaze with his pointedly. "Why is that, do you think?"

Harry looked at Remus expectantly. But Remus looked more nervous than anything else.

"By the way, Harry," Narcissa began. Harry's head whipped around and he stared at her in shock, "I ran into a friend of yours a while back – a certain redhead named Ginny. She told me to stay away from you. Said I'd caused enough trouble – something like that." She looked him straight in the eye, "Slapped me too. Hard."

Harry gaped, "Ginny – Ginny would never do anything like that."

"I assure you, she did," Narcissa replied, her tone icy. "But that's not what I'm upset about. At least Ginny was forthright. At least she had the guts to come and tell me she didn't like me straight to my face. Not like Remus here."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Why can't you be honest, Remus? Why can't you just tell me what I did that was so incredibly bad, that I can't remember? You haven't forgotten it; I can see that much. You have no problem being as cold as possible towards me. You just can't tell me why to my face."

Remus was shaking inside. It was just like the day she came to him and told him she wasn't going to let him end things with her just because he was a werewolf. The blunt honesty in her face. The powerful words. Dear God, why did Narcissa always do this to him?

He'd been lying to himself when he'd said he'd gotten her out from under his skin, twenty years ago. He'd crawled into a bottle, and when he'd come out, he'd sworn he was rid of her. Even when he read the headlines about their huge society wedding, he'd told himself he didn't feel a thing. He was free of Narcissa's spell. Right?

No. He wasn't. Even twenty years later, even with her hair hacked off and dyed that awful mouse brown, even with her face creased with anger – he still loved her.

"Don't you understand?" he burst out, before he even knew what he was saying, before he could stop himself, "Don't you see it's me, and not you at all? You did nothing – nothing – and I did it all to you. I handed you to Lucius Malfoy, I turned my back on you when you needed me the most – and you ran to the only person who would care for you, and that was him. Even if he tricked you into doing it – that was no excuse for what I did. I turned away from you, when you were nothing if not there for me through everything. This is my fault! All the pain you've gone through, the struggles and the heartbreak – Dumbledore's death! He'd be alive if it wasn't for me! Don't you understand, Narcissa? IT'S MY FAULT!"

Harry reeled, astonished. Narcissa's jaw dropped. Remus dropped to his knees and covered his face with his hands. He was not crying; he was in agony. His shoulders were shaking with grief, not tears. He was in the worst physical pain of his life. Every single transformation over thirty-two years melted compared to this. Grief and guilt warred together, and he was powerless to stop them.

Narcissa knelt beside him and, without thinking, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned her head against the small of his back, her eyes closed. She did not understand his words, but she could understand the anguish beneath them. She held Remus close to her, and she did not speak. Harry stared at them wretchedly, feeling as if he was intruding on something personal. Then he turned and fled up the stairs, to be alone.

After a minute or two, Remus lifted his face and turned to look at her. Her expression was pained, but composed. She looked as if nothing could break her anymore.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

She shook her head, "It's not your fault. You did what you felt was right."

"What do you mean?"

"You said that you couldn't tell me, that I had to remember things by myself," she said, "I should have listened to you. I should have trusted you. But I was impatient. And your coldness – it hurt me."

"I never meant to hurt you," Remus murmured, eyes downcast.

"I know you didn't," she replied, "You're not like that."

"If you only knew what I really was like," he shuddered, "You wouldn't believe that. I've done a horrible thing, Narcissa – I've wronged you so."

She put her hand to his lips, "Shhh. Don't say anymore. I don't want you to tell me. I don't want to know. If I'm meant to remember it, I will. Until then – it will have to remain a secret."

"Why?" Remus asked her.

She shrugged her thin shoulders, "Perhaps there are some things that it's not worth remembering."

That hurt him more than he had thought possible. Perhaps she did remember bits and pieces, then, and wanted to forget them as quickly as possible. He shuddered again and nodded, "You're right. Sometimes we're better off not knowing."

"Besides," Narcissa added, "If anything bad happened between us, I'd rather not know it, anyway."

"Why is that?" he asked dumbly.

She smiled at him, "Because," she murmured, taking his hand in hers, "I'd rather remember you as you are now – just the way you are."


	10. Eye To Eye

**Author's Note: I apologize for my posts being few and far between. I know that not too many people are reading this story or reviewing it, and I'm sorry if I've fallen short of reader expectations. I've started another semester at college, and it's been difficult for me to update as much as I like. I also had a lot of difficulty figuring out how I want this story to go. HOWEVER. Tonight during my Psych class, I had a burst of inspiration, and I now know where it's going. So it should be all good from here.**

**And if the chapters have been a bit boring, with a lot of background info...TRUST ME. Things happen from here on in. Starting now.**

**I hope this chapter lives up to expectations. R/R, please, if you think so.**

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* * *

**  
A week later, Mrs. Weasley, on the brink of a nervous breakdown, made the heartbreaking decision to separate the family.

"If something were – to happen," she choked as she tried to explain why to Remus, "it's too easy to attack us if we're clumped together. Best if we separate."

Fred and George already had their own premises, as did Fleur and Bill. Charlie was in Romania. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley decided that Ron and Hermione should stay with them. And Ginny, unwillingly, was packed off to stay with Remus, Harry, and Narcissa at Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Ron and Hermione were nearly as displeased as Ginny was. They wanted to be near Harry. But Mr. and Mrs. Weasley insisted that Ron stay with them, and sent Ginny instead. "Remus will take care of you," Mrs. Weasley explained to Ginny, who could not bring herself to explain to her parents why she did not want to be in the same house with a former boyfriend who was trying his best to distance himself from her.

And so Ginny came to stay at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, and had to room with Narcissa, another issue that caused turmoil. Ginny flatly refused, under pain of her dismemberment by her own mother, to have anything to do with Narcissa, who, after meekly trying to speak to Ginny, eventually gave up. Meals became awkward affairs – since Harry and Ginny were speaking only formally to each other, Remus often had to fill empty spaces in the conversation and fake heartiness. If it were not for his growing friendship with Narcissa, Remus' exasperation might have driven him mad.

* * *

On the first night of the full moon, Narcissa walked out of the kitchen to find Remus speaking to Harry and Ginny in low tones. She hung back and tried not to eavesdrop, but she couldn't help hearing him. 

"Above all, don't open the door to anyone," Remus said gravely to Harry, "Understand me? I'll be back in the morning."

"I'm not ten, Lupin," Harry replied irritably.

"He knows what he's talking about," Ginny sniped at him. Harry glared at her.

"Enough," Remus said coldly, "You two better shape up or you'll have me to answer to. I don't want either of you worrying Narcissa. Understand me?"

"Huh," Ginny sniffed, "She'll worry us, more like."

"Ginny, I've about had it," Remus said, "I'm leaving. I'll be back in the morning."

He caught Narcissa's eye over Ginny's bright red hair and walked over to her.

"If anyone should stop by," he said to her, "Have your wand at the ready. Don't open the door."

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Trust me," Remus replied heavily, "don't ask me that question. I'll tell you sometime soon. Just promise me you'll be careful."

He half-wondered if she would defy him, as she had all those years ago when he had tried to keep his secret from her. But there was no youthful curiosity in Narcissa's face now. She had learned fear.

"I promise," she said.

He managed a little smile and walked out the door, shutting it firmly behind him.

As if on cue, Harry and Ginny both turned to Narcissa. Neither of them said a word.

"What was that about?" she asked to both of them.

Ginny shrugged her thin shoulders and bit a hangnail.

Harry shook his head, "I have a feeling something bad is going to happen. I don't know why. I just do."

"Naturally," Ginny mumbled under her breath. Harry glared at her again.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Malfoy," he tried to say lightly, "it happens all of the time. You just run along to bed. I'll wash the dinner dishes."

He walked into the kitchen, turning his back purposefully on Ginny. Narcissa looked at her young compatriot, who turned her back on her, but not before Narcissa caught Ginny angrily brushing tears from her big green eyes.

* * *

Hours later, Narcissa couldn't sleep. She didn't know if it was the result of the death looks Ginny shot her every time they were in the same room together, or just from the strange tableau that had taken place when Remus had left. She felt uneasy, and even trying to read didn't help. 

When Ginny and Harry had gone to bed, she'd curled up in front of the fireplace under a blanket, her wand at the ready next to her.

What could Harry and Remus possibly have thought was coming tonight? she wondered. And if they all were in danger, why would Remus leave?

She stared out the window at the full moon. Something was nagging at her pitifully scarred memory, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

_Remus – and the moon –_

Someone pounded on the door.

Narcissa's hair stood on end. She broke out into a cold sweat. Her fingers closed around her wand, and she slowly rose to her feet. Her footsteps were not her own, but they carried her to the door. Trembling, she peered through the peephole.

Someone was outside – someone hunched over in a cloak.

"Narcissa," a voice rasped, "it's Remus, I'm hurt, please let me in."

Narcissa began shaking harder.

Remus had told her not to open the door to anyone. But he hadn't told her where he was going that night, either. Suppose – suppose he had been wounded, and he came back for help! What if she left him out in the cold? What if he was dying and she didn't help him?

Remus seemed to sense her dilemma.

"Please," he begged in that same rasping voice, "I'm badly hurt. I need help. Please, Narcissa."

She opened the door and, seizing him by the arm, pulled him into the room by force. She moved to shut the door, but it slammed, unaided.

"My, how incredibly careless of you."

With a terrible feeling of dread, she whirled around.

A tall boy with short, white blonde hair and a pale, pointed face was standing before her, the ragged cloak he'd been hiding under pooled at his feet. His clothes were torn and dirty, as was his face. His wand was pointed right at Narcissa's heart.

But what scared her most were his slate-gray eyes, and the chilling murderous emotion she could see in their depths.

_You fool!_ she thought to herself in horror.

She raised her wand at him lightning-quick. But before she could speak, the wand flew out of her hands and into his open one.

He smirked.

"I've gotten quite good at nonverbal spells," he told her unnecessarily.

Narcissa was trembling from head to toe.

"What do you want with me?" she asked him.

His face, if it could, grew paler.

"You can't honestly tell me you don't know," he murmured incredulously.

She shook her head.

He took a step towards her, his eyes glowing with rage.

"You betrayed me!" he shouted, "You betrayed me!"

"Betrayed you?" she asked, "I don't even _know _you!"

The boy seemed to falter. His legs gave way beneath him; he grabbed an end table for support. Narcissa moved a step back, but he pointed the wand at her again and shouted, "Stay where you are!"

He stepped closer to her, calm again.

"So – you've chosen to deny me, as well," he whispered, "Perhaps it's for the best – it will make this that much easier."

"Make _what_ that much easier?" Narcissa asked. _I have to keep him talking_, she thought desperately.

"You can't tell me you don't know why I've come," he spat out at her.

She shook her head again.

He laughed shortly, "I've come on a mission to avenge one who has been murdered."

_Lucius Malfoy._

Her blood ran cold. Someone had finally caught her. And he was going to kill her. She was unaided. She couldn't stop him.

"You killed Lucius Malfoy, you aided Harry Potter and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix," the boy went on, "and you betrayed the Dark Lord."

"I know no Dark Lord," Narcissa replied clearly.

The boy's gaze grew murderous again.

"Perhaps this will make you remember," he sneered, "_CRU-_"

Narcissa leapt out of the way. But in the same second, a dark form swooped down and knocked into the pale boy.

Harry! He had heard the commotion and come downstairs.

"Narcissa!" Harry shouted, "Run! Get Ginny and run!"

She didn't need to be told twice. She bolted past the boys and up the stairs, toward the room she shared with Ginny.

But Ginny was tearing down the hall in the opposite direction.

"Quickly!" Narcissa cried, "We have to get out of here!"

There was fire in Ginny's eyes, "If you think I'm going to leave Harry, you're crazy!" she breathed, "We have to help him!"

"I don't have a wand!" Narcissa cried desperately, "He took it!"

"Then I'll go! You stay here," Ginny ordered. She pushed past Narcissa and down the stairs. Narcissa followed her to the landing, but hid behind the newel post, watching with terrified eyes.

* * *

The boy and Harry were circling each other, wands pointed at each other's hearts. 

"This is the last time you interfere, Potter," the boy spat at him.

"This is the last time I'll have to," Harry retorted.

Ginny leapt over the last two steps and landed firmly on the parquet floor, her wand also pointed at the boy. Harry saw her, and his face was stricken with fear.

"Ginny! Get out of here!"

"No! I won't leave you!"

"That's touching," the boy sneered, "The Mudblood and the Muggle-lover. I'd heard you two were – an item, shall we say?" He smirked at Harry, "I always thought Granger was too beastly-looking even for you."

"Get out of it, Ginny," Harry ordered through clenched teeth.

"Forget it," she retorted, eyes on the boy.

"Yes, get out of it, won't you, Ginny?" the boy murmured.

Quick as lightning, he flicked his wand at her, and a jet of purple light smacked Ginny in the chest. She screamed and fell to the floor, unconscious.

"GINNY!" Harry screamed. The boy took advantage of this to fire a bolt of the same purple light at Harry, but Harry repelled him, looking sick.

"What do you want with Narcissa?" Harry asked him. "Your battles are with me!"

"It's something you couldn't begin to understand, Potter," the boy panted.

"How could you try to kill her? Have you no morals at all?" Harry asked.

The boy glared at him.

"My reasons for what I do," he snarled, "are none of your business, Potter. Although I'd like to know just how you convinced her to join you. Was it the Imperious Curse? Was it? That's what I've always thought, anyway."

"She came to us because she had nowhere else to go!" Harry shouted.

"She had me!" the boy screamed. To Narcissa's shock, she saw a glimmer of tears in the boy's eyes, "She still had me." He shook his head furiously. "It doesn't matter now. I have my orders, and she's got to go. But first – "

And he lunged at Harry, aiming his wand.

But this time, Harry was quicker. Or maybe angrier. He spun out of the way, aimed his wand at the boy, and screamed, "_CRUCIO!_"

It hit the mark. The boy fell to the floor, screaming, writhing, crying out at the top of his lungs. His wand, along with Narcissa's, clattered on the parquet. But Harry didn't release him. He shot the curse at him again and again, and the boy kept on screaming.

Narcissa wanted to cover her ears, the sound was so horrible. It made her feel physically sick, to hear a human being in such agonizing pain, even if that human being had just tried to kill her. She clung to the banister and closed her tear-filled eyes.

_And then she was lying on a bed, in agonizing pain, hearing that screaming, as her mother-in-law and Lucius Malfoy stood over her. Someone was screaming, but it wasn't her. It was the same voice, only so much younger. Lucius' gray eyes – so like the boy's! – were filled with happy tears. And he handed something to Narcissa – something wrapped in a white blanket._

_Narcissa pulled back the blanket and looked into a pair of gray eyes, a squished little face, a crown of snow-white duck fluff for hair, little hands that swung at her unconsciously. And she lost her heart. She was crying now, leaning against Lucius, amazed at the miracle she was holding in her arms._

_And Lucius kissed her cheek, sweaty with bits of hair clinging to it._

_"Let's call him Draco," he whispered._

Draco.

Narcissa's eyes flew open.

"NO!" she screamed.

Flinging herself down the stairs, she fell to her knees on the slippery parquet floor, gasped, jump up again, ran. Without thinking, she threw herself between Harry and Draco's writing form, and felt the full blast of the Cruciatus Curse as she shielded it with her body. She screamed, but it was over in an instant; Harry was not willing to hurt her. She knelt on the floor and lifted the boy's body into her arms, cradling him, sobbing over this boy. Draco. Her only son.

She remembered.

The soft white-blonde hair that had lost its baby curl. The pale face she had kissed so many times in infancy. The long, lithe limbs that had so often leapt on a racing broom and outflown the competition at school. The body, broken and bruised and dirty, draped like liquid over her lap. Narcissa pushed back her baby's hair and kissed his forehead, the tears flowing freely.

She heard Harry stammering something behind her, and the slow scuffle as Ginny regained consciousness and rose to her feet, painfully limping to them. But she was not aware of any of it. She rocked her baby in her arms, kissing him over and over again.

_My Draco. My baby. How could I ever forget?_

She didn't know if he was alive. His lips did not move, his eyes were still. But as she kissed him, over and over, Narcissa repeated his name.

"Draco. Draco. My baby, my baby. It's over, baby. I love you so much. Oh, please don't leave me. Please don't leave me."

And somewhere inside, though he was unconscious, he must have heard. Beneath her, his chest slowly began to rise and fall, his lips trembling with breath, his lashes wet with tears, as Draco clawed his way back to life.


	11. Sweet Child of Mine

Ginny awoke the next day in a strange bedroom. Harry's bedroom. She turned her head and her bleary eyes made out the curve of a familiar cheek, the thick thatch of black hair, the green eyes wide with worry.

"You're awake," Harry said. It wasn't a question.

Ginny shifted and groaned.

"What happened?" she asked. Then, "Is everyone okay?"

Harry gently pushed her back down, "I don't know yet. I'm fine, and Narcissa's fine. Lupin's not back yet. Draco – " He clenched his teeth. "Draco's still unconscious."

Ginny pushed her sweaty limp red hair out of her face and stared up at him, "Do you think he'll survive?"

"God only knows." Harry's voice sounded very far away, "When he started breathing again, she – she looked so helpless. As if she'd hurt him, instead of me. I won't ever forget that look." His eyes gazed off into the distance, seeing nothing.

Ginny touched his hand, "It wasn't your fault. She can't be angry with you. You saved our lives."

"I might have killed her only son," Harry whispered.

"It wasn't your fault," she interrupted fiercely, "Nobody could have expected you to do less. And anyway, Lupin made you swear to protect her."

"Her?" Harry gave a short laugh, "I wasn't protecting her, Ginny. I was hurting him because he hurt you."

Ginny stared at her hands, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. She'd wanted him to say this for so long – for months – but she never thought he'd say these things to her again.

"When I – when I saw him hurt you," Harry stammered, "I didn't know what to do. I wanted to kill him. I would have killed him, if she hadn't stepped between us."

"Harry – "

He looked at her, "I don't care what happens from now on," he said fiercely, "I don't care who tries to separate us. Seeing you, on the floor – I thought I was going to die along with you. I hadn't even told you that I loved you." He took her hand, "I love you, Ginny. And I'm not going to let anyone – least of all me – separate us again."

Ginny's arms were weak. But she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth, tasting her tears - testing the first joy of love again.

* * *

When Remus arrived, shortly after 10 AM, he looked tired and wan. Harry fielded him at the front door and told him what had happened. He took the stairs two at a time and knocked hesitantly on Narcissa's door. 

Her tired voice answered, and he slowly went in.

The morning sun dappled the large queen-size bed, making the two figures sitting on it look lonelier and more lost than before. Narcissa sat on the edge, her face tired and grief-stricken, her eyes older than her thirty-seven years.

Draco lay still in the bed, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow and faint. Narcissa was pushing the thin white blonde locks from his face with an expression of absolute misery.

"Narcissa," Remus murmured.

She looked up at him. For an instant, her expression brightened, but then it lapsed into darkness again. He was beside her in an instant, a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"How did it happen?" he asked, "How did he find you?"

She shook her head, "Harry says he must have gone knocking on each door until he saw me. He pretended he was you, and you were hurt. It was my fault. I thought maybe – it's my fault that Ginny's hurt. I'm so sorry, Remus. I should have been more careful."

"It's nobody's fault," Remus answered, "If you hadn't gotten to Draco first, someone else might have. He would be dead by now, if not for you. It's a miracle he's survived this far – the entire Ministry wants his head."

Narcissa raised large, frightened eyes.

"What did he do?"

Remus sighed heavily and told her about the events surrounding Dumbledore's murder. She listened, her eyes widening with each word. When he finished, she spoke.

"But if he didn't kill Dumbledore – they can't possibly blame him! He's a _child_, Remus!"

"He's seventeen," Remus sighed again, "And they killed his father for not even being involved in Dumbledore's murder. They won't hesitate to convict him, not for a minute."

"But you don't believe he was – involved in that, do you?" she asked him.

Remus reached over and yanked up Draco's filthy sleeve. Narcissa gasped when she saw the black tattoo of a skull with a snake slithering through its gaping jaw.

"The Dark Mark," Remus replied, "The tattoo the Dark Lord gives his followers. No, I don't think that your son is a murderer. I don't think he could have brought himself to kill Dumbledore, and I certainly don't think, despite what Harry believes, that he could have brought himself to kill you. But I cannot deny that he went to the tower with the intention of killing Dumbledore."

Narcissa set her jaw.

"I'm not letting him be taken," she replied, "Not while there's breath in my body. And if you and Harry don't want to guard him, I'll do it by myself. We'll leave. I'm not going to let my son be executed like my husband was."

"Your husband wasn't executed," Remus replied dryly, "You took care of that, as I recall."

Narcissa's cheeks flamed, "Are you suggesting that I kill my own son?"

"Listen to me!" Remus urged her, "I don't think your son is a killer. And I'm not going to turn him into the authorities. But you need to stay here. You both do. You have to convince Draco that you aren't going to turn him in, and that he must not, under any circumstances, return to the Death Eaters. Do you understand?"

Narcissa looked at him for a long moment. Then she nodded.

Remus jerked his chin quickly in assent, "Good. Have you had anything to eat?" he asked.

"No," she replied, "I'm not leaving him."

"I'll get you something from the kitchen."

"Remus," she murmured as he got to his feet. She grabbed his hand. He felt electricity at her touch, but shook his head to be rid of it.

"Yes?"

He looked down at her, and her blue eyes were swimming with unshed tears.

"I forgot about him, Remus. I forgot about my own son."

Remus felt his heart break for her. _You forgot about all of us_, he wanted to say. But he could not. He sat beside her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him, while she cried as if her heart would break.

* * *

Draco felt as if he was swimming. The waters were murky, and he was reaching out, but he couldn't find what he was looking for. He reached out his arms and touched – something. But what was it? 

And then he saw her face. Cloudy at first, but then as brilliant as the sun. He saw her familiar features, the blue eyes shining like sapphires, the unfamiliar short brown hair.

"Draco," she whispered, "Baby? Can you hear me?"

Her fingers touched his cheek. Draco reached up and touched her hand. It was real. It was real, and it wasn't a dream, and she remembered him. She remembered him! Draco wanted to cry. He couldn't speak. He couldn't say a word.

"Draco?" she murmured, in a voice that was sweeter to him than anything, "Can you hear me? Wake up, sweetheart."

It was as if nothing had happened, as if he was still a child, and she was waking him up to go to school. He opened his mouth, licked his lips, and croaked:

"Mum."

And then her face split in a beatific smile. She opened her arms and Draco lifted his weak body to her. She held him close to her and she was crying, her tears falling on his shirt, on his face, into his hair. He didn't care. He didn't care about the orders he'd been given, or Snape, or Aunt Bellatrix, or the Dark Lord himself. He would go through every hell if only he could be with his mother and she would know him again.

"I'm so sorry," she was crying, "I'm so, so sorry, honey."

Draco began crying too, even though he was far too old for it. He didn't care.

"I'm sorry, too, Mum," he sobbed.

Finally, they pulled apart. And Draco looked at her with fresh memory.

"Oh, why did you do it, Mum?" he asked her sadly, "Why did you kill Dad?"

Narcissa's face clouded sadly.

"Draco," she said, "I can't explain it to you because I don't know why. I can't remember. Things – things happened, sweetheart, do you understand that? That's why I couldn't remember you. That's why I – I killed your father."

Draco shook his head, "I don't understand!"

"Remus can explain it better than I can," she replied.

"Remus?" Draco recoiled in horror. "The werewolf?"

"Werewolf?" Narcissa asked, her face blank.

"I think I should take it from here, Narcissa," a voice said from behind her.

Remus stepped forward and touched Narcissa on the shoulder, "It'll be okay. I'll explain everything to Draco."

Narcissa looked up at him, "_Werewolf?_" she said again.

Remus shook his head, "I'll tell you later."

Draco looked at him in hate, "I don't want to talk to you. Mum – "

"Your mother's been awake with you for almost three days," Remus replied, "She needs some sleep. She's dead on her feet."

"No! Mum – "

"Draco," Narcissa soothed, "I'll be fine. Remus will explain everything. I'll be in the next room." She kissed him on the forehead, then turned to Remus.

"You'll call me, if he needs me?" she asked him.

"In an instant," he replied.

Draco followed his mother with a desperate look in his eyes as she stumbled half-dead from the room. Remus waved his wand and shut the door behind her. With a look of determination on his face, he turned to Draco.

"Where to begin," he said.

Draco glared at him. "I don't want to talk to you," he snapped, "What have you done to my mum?"

"I didn't do anything to her," Remus replied tiredly, "Your mother was the victim of a curse that obliterated her memory when she was seventeen years old."

"Bull," Draco said.

"It's true," Remus replied, "The Auralium Curse. She lost her memory at the age of seventeen, and when your father died, she lost it again. That's why she didn't remember you. Her memories were contingent on your father being alive. When he died – he took everything she'd ever known with her. She had to begin again. She had to remember everything anew. Luckily for you, she remembered what was most important to her in time."

Draco shook his head, "That doesn't explain why she killed my dad1"

"Your father," Remus answered, "had been sentenced to death by the Dementor's Kiss. It's a horrible death, Draco – the worst there is. I was there at his trial. I was sitting with your mother. Your father had asked me to be there, when I visited him in Azkaban."

"Why would you visit him?" Draco asked, "My father had nothing to do with you!"

"True," Remus replied, "but I used to be friends with your mother, a very long time ago. And I cared for her. Your father told me that when he died, she would be alone in the world – with no memory of her previous life. I agreed to help her. She wanted to be there for the trial, so I went with her. Your – your mother loved your father very much."

It seemed to cost Remus a lot to say these words. He cleared his throat and continued.

"When your father was condemned – your mother just fell apart. She ran to him and cursed him. The Avada Kedavra – The Killing Curse. He died a painless death, Draco. Your mother didn't kill your father out of spite. She gave him a beautifully painless death instead of a horrific living death. She loved him so much she was willing to risk imprisonment and even death itself for him. But then the Auralium Curse took hold, and she lost what was left of her memories. Including memories of you."

Draco looked away.

"She is starting to remember," Remus went on, "Bit by bit. She remembers you, she remembers that she was once friends with Harry's parents – '

Draco stared at him. Remus smiled and nodded.

"Yes. Back at school, when I knew her, her very best friend was Muggle-born Lily Evans."

"It isn't true," Draco murmured.

"It is," Remus answered, "And I must tell you this now. I know you are no killer, Draco. I know you would not have killed Professor Dumbledore and that you only planned to do so because Lord Voldemort threatened to kill your father and mother."

Draco flinched but did not deny it.

"And I know," Remus went on, "that you only came here to kill your mother because you were threatened as well. Yes, I know it," he said when Draco's head shot up, "I know it because I know you, and I knew your parents. You aren't a murderer, Draco. You wouldn't have done it, even if the Ministry believes you would have."

"What are you going to do about it?" Draco asked, "You can't convince them."

"No, that I can't," Remus replied, "But I told your father something else. I swore to protect you as best I could. And I'm going to keep that promise, Draco."

"It's not a promise you can keep," Draco replied.

"I can keep you hidden here, with your mother," Remus answered, "I can keep you safe with Harry and Ginny."

"With Potter?" Draco spat, "Stay here with Potter?"

"You have no choice, I'm afraid," Remus replied lightly, "I can hardly say he's happier about it than you are. But the two of you must learn to get along. I can protect you, but you must stay in this house. If you set foot outside – there is nothing I can do for you."

Draco looked at him.

"If the Dark Lord wants me dead," he said slowly, "you can't save me."

"That may be true," Remus answered, "But I can promise you this – he will not kill you or your mother when I have breath in my body."

Draco shook his head, a slow ironic smile playing at his lips.

"You may say so, Remus Lupin," he said, a chill in his words, "and I may be at the mercy of you and Potter and everyone else in the so-called Order of the Phoenix. But I don't believe you will save me, or even, when the time comes, that you will try. And while I will agree to stay here, strictly out of fear for my mother's survival, I do so knowing that, sooner or later, if the Dark Lord wants me, he'll come for me. Oh yes, we may now be allies," and he smiled again, "we will never – I promise you – be friends."


	12. Lily's Eyes

"NO!"

Bellatrix Lestrange clawed at her thick black hair, her face twisted with anger and humiliation. "This cannot be happening!"

"Temper, temper," Snape drawled, "The Dark Lord is already displeased with you. He wouldn't want to see you in a fit like this."

"Oh, shut up!"

Bellatrix picked up a rock off the floor and hurled it at Snape, who sent it flying sideways with a lazy flick of his wand. She seethed inwardly, looking at his calm.

"You knew this would happen, didn't you?" she cursed at him, "You knew he would fail!"

"Of course he was going to fail," Snape replied snidely, "He's seventeen years old. He's very devoted to his mother. I knew once he saw her, he'd never be able to carry it out. I'm not surprised, however, at your blind faith in the loyalty of your family. One by one, they fail every mission they're given – "

"Not me!" Bellatrix shouted, "I alone have remained faithful!"

"So you have," Snape replied graciously, "Unfortunately, the Dark Lord seems to have tired of your excuses."

Bellatrix's eyes blazed.

"Tired of my excuses? I have fallen from favor?"

"So it would seem."

She shook her head.

"I won't let it happen – I just won't. There has to be a way to take care of this problem – to show the Dark Lord that I'm still his most loyal servant, no matter what my family is like."

She bit one ragged fingernail and stared out of the window pensively.

Inwardly, Snape breathed a sigh of relief. So Draco was safe, then. And so was Narcissa. He knew that, sooner or later, the Dark Lord would send someone after them, to finish them off. He figured that, when the time came, he would be the one to do so – and he could figure out where to go from there.

Snape had never quite forgiven himself for telling the secret behind Narcissa Black's engagement to Remus Lupin to her fiancé, Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa had always been a decent sort of girl – too quiet to be hurtful, like so many of the other students were. He'd really liked her, as a friend, for the first six years they'd attended Hogwarts.

And then she became friends with Lily Evans!

Snape's face burned just thinking about it.

His very first evening at Hogwarts had been cold and rainy. He'd arrived soaking wet, shorter than most of the other boys in his year, with no friends to stand with during the Sorting Ceremony. He'd been unpopular in grammar school, and as he walked in, he could hear the whispers of the other children around him, whom he'd known since kindergarten:

_"Watch it, there – that's Snivellus Snape." "He's only half-blood, they say."_

Snape's pride had been hurt. His mother, who had always prided herself on her bloodline, who had been so plain-looking that no pureblood family would have her, had always told Severus not to worry – he was so talented, nobody would notice that he wasn't pure-blood. But it was too late – the other children knew it, and would be cruel enough to bring it up in public. His face was hot with humiliation.

As he filed in, he saw two boys standing close to him. One was tall for his age, with shaggy hair and bright brown eyes, and a laughing face. The other was much shorter, almost stunted, with jet-black, messy hair, and huge hazel eyes. They were laughing and talking, not at all nervous, but excited to be there.

He wanted so badly to talk to them. Maybe they would speak to him. Maybe – they would be his friends?

But the sorting hat called out one of their names almost immediately.

"Black, Sirius!"

The tall boy with the shaggy hair winked at his compatriot and swaggered up to the stool. The Sorting Hat was dropped onto his head and shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" Everyone applauded, and the boy jumped off the stool and hurried over to the Gryffindor table.

Snape kept his eye on the other boy as the ceremony continued. But he did not so much as glance Snape's way. He kept his eyes on the tables around him, at the teachers, at the girls in their year, at anything but Snape. It was almost as if he was avoiding him. Finally, Snape reached out to pull on his sleeve, to get his attention. But before he could touch him, the boy whirled on him, saying loudly:

"You have a problem, slimy?"

McGonagall's voice died away. The other children turned around and started staring at them – staring at the short boy with black hair and Snape. Snape felt his face go even redder at the sound of muffled laughter.

McGonagall gave them both a nasty look.

"Potter, James!" she called out.

The boy shot Snape a disgusted look, then mounted the platform. Within seconds, the hat sent him to Gryffindor amidst cheers. He sauntered off and sat down next to Sirius Black, who gave him a high-five. Snape watched as James Potter whispered something in Sirius' ear. Sirius looked revolted and then cast a glance around, looking for Snape. Snape shrunk down behind a tall blonde girl, hoping nobody could see him.

But then, McGonagall shouted.

"Snape, Severus!"

Everyone started tittering again. His ears flaming, Snape slunk towards the stage, mounted it, and sat down with a thump into the chair. The hat was dropped over his eyes. He couldn't hear what it was saying; his heart was pounding too loudly. Finally, he heard the shout of "SLYTHERIN!" He ripped the hat off, tossed it onto the chair, and hurtled towards the Slytherin table, where everybody gave him plenty of room.

He escaped as soon as the Sorting Ceremony was over, saying he had to go to the bathroom. He hid in the boys' room until he could hear the other children leaving for bed. As he slipped, unobserved, into the hallway, he heard a familiar voice:

"I guess what my dad said about the feasts was true, then. That was excellent."

James Potter! Snape burned with the desire to get back at him for publicly humiliating him. He hugged the wall and followed the voice.

He could hear an unfamiliar voice now, "What the hell happened with that Slytherin kid, James? What were you doing to him?"

A short laugh, "I think he wanted to be friends with me. Slimy beast of a kid, wasn't he? Looked as if he hadn't washed his hair in years. I took no notice of him, but he kept staring at me. Thought he could do with a come-down."

James sounded PLEASED with himself!

Snape had heard enough. He took his wand out of his pocket, aimed it at James' back, and whispered, "_RICTUSEMPRA_!"

Silver shot from Snape's wand. But he misaimed – it hit Sirius Black in the back instead. Sirius shouted and doubled over, wheezing and coughing. James whirled around. His eyes met Snape's.

"You!" he shouted, "I'll get you for that!"

Snape shoved his wand in his pocket and bolted down the corridor as fast as his legs could carry him.

Such was the beginning of their school years of out-and-out hatred. Sometimes Snape had the upper hand, and sometimes James did, but they always fought, whenever they saw each other. Snape became one of the outcasts of the school – his only friends were members of Lucius Malfoy's group, who were all a few good years older than he was. But James – good-looking, smart, and talented at Quidditch – became one of the most popular boys in school.

But fifth year was where things went from bad to worse.

Ever since she had set foot at Hogwarts, Lily Evans had been one of the prettiest girls in the school. She was almost as pretty as Narcissa Black, who was in her year, but who was off-limits, since she was betrothed to Lucius Malfoy. Lily, with her long red hair and sparkly green eyes – the most beautiful, entrancing eyes he'd ever seen - simply captivated Snape, and anyone else who noticed her.

Snape was far too shy to do anything about his feelings. Lily was in Gryffindor, which meant that she probably hung around with gits like James Potter and Sirius Black, and their friends. The whole situation was hopeless.

Nevertheless, he allowed his imagination to run wild, as he imagined taking walks with Lily on the grounds, or visiting Hogsmeade with her. Of course, they were only fantasies – he didn't REALLY think she'd ever give him the time of day. But, in a blast of insane recklessness, Snape anonymously sent Lily some roses for Valentine's Day.

Later that day, he saw her in the Great Hall, but she wasn't carrying the flowers. He saw James Potter and Sirius Black sit down across from her.

"Who is your Valentine, Evans?" James asked carelessly.

"Nobody," she replied coolly.

"I heard you got some flowers sent to your room," Sirius teased, "Who were they from?"

"They were anonymous, if it's all the same to you!"

"Anonymous, eh?" James sneered, "You're not going to believe this, Evans, but I saw Snivellus Snape at the flower shop in Hogsmeade, yesterday!"

Snape's insides had turned to water. He lifted up the book he was reading over dinner, so nobody would see him.

But over the top of it, he saw Lily Evans look over at him and give him a sad expression – of pity.

Pity!

Snape's insides had roared. God DAMN Lily Evans! He didn't need her pity! And he would get James Potter back for that if it was the last thing he ever did!

It was bad enough to be silently rejected by Lily. But two years later, when she'd started dating James Potter – that had been the last straw. His rage had known no boundaries.

He'd taken it out on Narcissa. He'd told Lucius Malfoy about her and Remus Lupin. To be fair, it wasn't all his doing – Lucius had asked him to "keep an eye" on Narcissa all along. But he'd done it – he'd told Lucius, fully knowing how much it would hurt Narcissa in the end.

The last time he'd seen her – the night she'd left Hogwarts – her pretty face had been swollen and tear-stained. Good, he'd thought savagely. She deserves this.

It wasn't until years later that he realized that she hadn't deserved it – any of it.

But by that time, there was no way to make it up to her.

Until the Dark Lord had announced that Draco must kill Narcissa. Snape found his way of repaying her. He would keep her safe. Somehow.

"I'll do it."

Snape broke free from his reverie. "What?"

"I'll take care of them," she announced. "I won't even tell the Dark Lord what I'm doing. I'll take care of Narcissa and Draco and the werewolf, too."

Snape's eyes widened.

"What about Potter?" he demanded, "Are you going to kill him, too?"

Her eyes blazed with insane zeal, "Why not? I'm more than a match for him. I can finish him off – it will be the perfect display of devotion."

She stuck her wand in her pocket and swirled her dark cloak over her shoulders. Snape hurried after her.

"Bellatrix, you may want to think about this for a moment – you're not in your right mind."

"I'm perfectly capable of what I'm going to do, Snape," Bellatrix scoffed, "You think I haven't murdered anyone before?"

"She's your own sister!"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning – you might not be – emotionally prepared, for the task."

Bellatrix smiled, "Oh, I think I'll be all right. Anyway, just to be safe, I'll get in a practice round – and I'll take an old friend with me."


	13. A Vision Who Was Not Quite Real

To Narcissa's relief, Draco healed rapidly from his encounter with Harry's Cruciatus Curse. The Curse left no lasting damage, save for a limp so slight that it might not have been noticed. But Draco noticed, and he made things very difficult, refusing to speak to anyone in the house except for his mother, whom he treated with absolute courtesy.

He was never out-and-out rude to Remus, but his cold looks and pointed stares let everyone know just how unhappy he was to be beholden to a werewolf and a couple of teenagers whom he'd always hated. Most of the time, he sat up in the highest room of the house, where Buckbeak and Sirius had stayed, staring out of the window morosely.

Harry and Ginny made it perfectly clear that they were about as happy to be in Draco's continual presence as he was of being in theirs, but were forced to admit that he had nowhere else to go, and that neither wanted to have his murder on their conscience. Most of the time, they avoided each other, but meals were perfunctory and always, always too quiet, with Remus and Narcissa attempting to force conversation.

Life might have continued in this vein for months, maybe years, had not Remus and Harry received the owl from Kingsley Shacklebolt one afternoon.

With a growing sense of dread, Harry plucked the spare piece of parchment from the messenger owl and said, "I knew something like this was coming."

Narcissa's and Ginny's faces had gone white; Draco looked impassively out into space. Remus closed his eyes and folded his hands together as if in prayer.

"Read it, Harry. Quickly."

Harry read, his voice growing strained with each word.

"It's Tonks," he said.

Remus' eyes snapped open, "Tonks? Tonks is dead?"

"No," Harry hurried to say, "But they got her mother and father. Murdered. This morning." He lowered the paper.

Draco's eyes snapped over to his mother. But Narcissa's expression did not alter one bit. Remus realized that she didn't understand.

He took her by the shoulders and said, "Narcissa." He took a deep breath.

"I know this will be difficult for you to understand. I'm just going to come out and say it. Your sister's been murdered."

Narcissa's face darkened, "My sister?"

"Yes," Remus said gently, "Your older sister, Andromeda, and her husband, Theodore. They've been murdered." He looked at her encouragingly, "Do you remember Andromeda, Narcissa?"

Her face looked vague, "I can't – I can't remember."

"Yes, you do!" Harry said. He walked over to one of the living room end tables and pulled a framed photograph out of a drawer – the photograph that Narcissa had seen the first day she'd come to 12 Grimmauld Place. He handed it to her. Remus pointed to it.

"She's the one sitting in the middle."

Narcissa looked at the girl in question. She was of middle height, not a pretty sort of person, with brown hair and large brown eyes, smiling sweetly. She shook her head, "I don't know – who would have killed her?"

Draco looked as if he was about to burst. Remus stared at him, willing him to keep his silence.

"Any number of people," he said, before Draco could speak, "I'm going to go there. See if there's anything I can do."

"I'm going with you," Narcissa answered, suddenly. Remus looked surprised.

"I think I have a right to see her – if she is my sister."

Remus nodded.

"I'm coming with you," Draco butted in.

"No!" Narcissa cried, "No. You stay here. It's too dangerous for you to go out yet. Someone might see you. Stay with Harry and Ginny."

Draco's face darkened. So did Harry's.

Remus looked at Harry and Ginny pointedly. "We'll be back soon," he said, "Come on, Narcissa."

As they prepared to Disapperate, she took his hand, almost unwittingly. Remus felt the electricity in her grip. As they vanished from sight, he saw Draco glaring at him, with something like fear in his gaze, a look Remus did not understand.

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt opened the door of 657 Parkington Drive, home of Andromeda and Theodore Tonks – or what had been until this morning. Remus nodded in greeting. Narcissa looked all around her, as if she expected to see a dead body right there on the kitchen floor. 

"Where is Tonks?" Remus asked quietly.

Shacklebolt looked grim. "She's at the Ministry, for questioning. They want to get some idea of who did this."

Remus shook his head, "It could be anyone."

Shacklebolt shrugged, "You'd better come in here.'

He ushered them into the living room. Lying in front of the door, spread-eagled, eyes wide, was a tall man with thinning gray hair, somewhere in his early forties. He wore a look of surprise – the classic mark of the Killing Curse. Remus felt, rather than saw, Narcissa's shock. She had performed this curse herself – yet she didn't remember its classic signs.

Lying on the couch, some feet away, was a fortyish woman, graying brown hair, figure gone completely, eyes wide in death. Narcissa walked right over to her and knelt by the couch. Her hand strayed to the woman's frozen, shocked face; her fingers touched a two-inch scar on the chin.

Her blue eyes closed.

_They had been playing, on Andromeda's toy broomstick. She was five, Andromeda was eight, and Bellatrix – was that her sister's name? – Bellatrix was eleven. She mocked them endlessly about not being old enough to fly a real broomstick. Andromeda waited until she went into the house, then she stole Trixie's broomstick. She waved off Narcissa's protests._

_"That's Sissy's broomstick," Narcissa pointed out._

_"Oh, who cares? I'm almost as tall as she is; I can manage it," Andromeda had said, "And can you imagine her face when she comes out and sees I can fly as well as she can?"_

_She'd kicked off the ground and soared around the trees. Narcissa had clapped her hands in delight, secretly worried about Trixie's reaction when she saw what her sister was doing to her precious broomstick. She shuddered at the thought._

_"Cissa, watch me!" Andromeda cried. She did loops and twirls in the air – she really was a natural. Narcissa smiled in proud admiration._

_But Bellatrix had come outside while Andromeda was showing off. She pulled her wand out of her pocket, aimed it at her sister, and shouted something. Andromeda shrieked, lost control of the broomstick, and smacked right into an oak tree._

_She'd been all right, no broken bones, but the whip-like branches of the tree had left a two-inch scar on her face. Andromeda and Bellatrix never truly reconciled -  
_

"Narcissa?"

She opened her eyes and looked up at Remus' concerned face, "I remember her now," she murmured softly.

Remus touched her shoulder gently, "I'm sorry," he said.

Suddenly, they heard the door open. Footsteps came towards them. Narcissa stood up and dusted off her skirt.

A tall, thin girl with short brown hair and pain-stricken eyes walked into the room. When she saw Remus and Narcissa, her eyes blazed.

"You! What are you doing here? Get out of my house! Get out!"

"Tonks – " Remus moved towards her.

She pulled her wand out of her pocket, "Don't you come near me! How dare you come here right now? How dare you?"

She looked at Narcissa's shocked face, "Who is this? What do you want?"

Remus felt sick. Tonks was obviously grief-stricken and still angry with him over their split; he had hoped it would not come to this. But his insides sank when he heard Narcissa step forward and say:

"I'm sorry for intruding. We came to see if we could help."

Tonks glared at her.

"Help? I don't even know you."

"I'm sorry," Narcissa apologized, "My name is Narcissa."

Tonks took a step back, shocked.

"It can't be – Aunt Narcissa?"

Narcissa blanched.

Then Tonks' face twisted with ugly rage.

"It's your fault she's dead! Your whole stupid family is to blame! She never did anything – she was pure, she was good – and you and your sister and your husbands – they killed her! You murdered her as sure as if the curse was yours!"

Tonks ran at her. Remus stepped between them and grabbed her, "No!"

"Don't you touch me!" Tonks howled, "I'm going to kill her, I'm going to kill her myself!"

She thrashed against Remus, but he was too strong. She went limp and began to sob against him, "Why did they do it – why did they kill my parents? My parents never did anything to them."

Narcissa's eyes were filled with tears.

Remus said, sympathetic but firm, "I'm sorry for what happened, but Narcissa isn't to blame. I'm sorry, Tonks."

She pulled away from him, her eyes wet with tears, "No?"

Tonks reached into her pocket and pulled out an ugly piece of jewelry – a brooch, rather ornate to the point of outright ugliness. She tossed it at Narcissa, who caught it.

"Maybe my aunt can explain why this was on my floor."

Narcissa turned it over and over in her hands, staring at it intently.

She looked up at Remus.

"This is my sister's," she said slowly, "I remember Trixie wearing it after she was married. Her husband gave it to her."

"She murdered my mother and father," Tonks said coldly, "Because of you and your son. She never came near my mother after my parents were married – why would she come now? She was looking for your son. She'll come for you next."

She looked right at Remus with her tear-filled red eyes,

"And I'll be damned if I do anything to stop her."

Remus looked away.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go see to my parents' affairs."

She turned to leave, and then stopped.

"Here," she said to Narcissa, pointedly ignoring Remus and digging around in her pocket. "I suppose these belong to you. They were sent back, every time. You never opened them." She thrust out a thick pile of envelopes, wrapped in twine.

Narcissa took them wordlessly. Her name was scrawled across the front of each: Narcissa Malfoy, 1486 Huntington Circle, Cambridge. Every single letter was postmarked, "Denied – Return to Sender."

"I was going to give them to the Ministry as evidence," she went on, refusing to meet either of their eyes, "But even though you're partially responsible, I know you're not the one who killed her. That brooch proves it." She stepped away. "Excuse me."

As she left the room, she turned to Remus. He felt shame under her gaze.

"I would have given you everything," Tonks said slowly, without blinking, "But you didn't want me, did you? You always wanted – her."

Remus didn't know what to say. He knew apologies were useless. He met her eyes for an instant. Then Tonks turned on her heel and left the room as quickly as she had entered it.

Remus looked at Narcissa helplessly. Her blue eyes were wide.

"Trixie murdered Andromeda," she said disbelievingly, " One of my sisters murdered the other."

She turned the brooch over and over in her hands.

"She didn't leave this here by accident. She wants me to know she's coming."

Remus nodded, "Draco was right."

Narcissa's face was stricken.

"She'll be coming for us next."


	14. Letters

Narcissa and Remus returned to Grimmauld Place to find it in chaos. Draco was clawing at his face, shouting obscenities at Ginny, who looked rather pleased with her Bat-Bogey Hex. Harry was shouting, and he seemed to be suffering from the same affliction. Remus and Narcissa sported equally shocked expressions when they walked through the front door.

"They were driving me mad," Ginny explained, "So I jinxed them both."

"Ginny!" Remus shouted. He hastily murmured the counter curse at Draco, then Harry, and both boys were relieved. They glared at each other, and Ginny, too.

"What on earth?" Narcissa asked faintly. Remus noticed, with some pleasure, that she didn't rush right to her son's defense.

"They wouldn't stop fighting and cursing each other," Ginny said, "I couldn't take it anymore."

"That's it!" Remus shouted angrily, "I've had it with both of you. We're in the middle of a war, a fight between moral good and evil, and the two of you can't set aside a schoolboy argument. Well, I'm finished with it. Tomorrow, Ginny is going back to the Burrow."

Ginny's eyes widened in disbelief, "But I didn't do anything!"

"You help antagonize them," Remus accused her, "Don't even deny it. And Harry, I would have expected more from you. Even your father and Snape managed to put aside school torments when they reached your age. Your immaturity is unforgivable."

Harry looked defiant, but hurt. Remus turned to Draco.

"Draco, I'll leave your reprimanding to your own mother."

"Please don't," Narcissa broke in, surprising them all. She put her hands on her slender hips, "I expected better from you as well, Draco."

Draco's mouth dropped open, "You can't be taking Potter's side!"

"I'm not taking sides. I'm saying that the two of you are being irresponsible and that we have bigger problems to deal with than the two of you – or three of you, counting Ginny – fighting." She took a deep breath, "Your Aunt Andromeda is dead, Draco. Aunt Trixie killed her. And I think she'll be coming after us next."

To her surprise, Draco sneered.

"You can't really be all that surprised, Mum. Did you really think she was just going to let me run away, let me betray the Dark Lord? You are so naïve. She's going to kill me, and you, too – and anyone else who happens to be around." He glanced suggestively at Remus and Harry.

Narcissa swallowed, "Then we should leave at once."

"No!" Remus broke in, "I'm not letting you two leave so you can be butchered!"

"I won't let you and Harry martyr yourselves for our sakes," Narcissa replied.

Harry snorted, "We can take them. I've beaten Bellatrix Lestrange in a fair fight before. She's getting older."

Draco looked at him in disbelief, "You're an idiot, Potter. She'll kill you before you can open your mouth to hex her."

"Right," Harry retorted. The two of them glared at each other.

"I'm not leaving if Harry stays here," Ginny broke in stubbornly, "I'm sixteen now, Remus, you can't tell me what to do."

Remus threw his hands in the air, "It's late, we should be getting lunch on the table, and I'm not going to discuss this now. Ginny, Draco, Harry – I'm giving you all one more chance to act like adults. Narcissa, you and Draco are not leaving this house. Is that clear?"

Her face darkened with anger, "I'm not going to let you order me around, Remus. You can't make me do anything I don't want to. And I'm sick of being ordered around; I've listened to it all my life." She turned on her heel and stomped out of the room.

Draco, Harry, and Ginny all watched her, somewhat surprised. Remus felt his face growing red. He bristled at the looks on their faces.

"Well, get on with it!" he snapped, "I have work to do." He left them in the kitchen, staring at each other wordlessly.

"This is all your fault," Ginny snapped at Draco.

"You shut up, Weasley," Draco did not even manage a snappy retort.

"What's your problem, Malfoy?" Harry inquired, "You've been acting like a nervous cat all day."

"Don't you idiots understand?" Draco burst out, "They're going to come. Here. They're going to find us. They're going to try and kill me and my mother. And they'll kill you, too. If Lupin's too much a fool to understand, maybe you aren't. Run while you can. Because you won't last ten minutes – I know what's going to come."

"Get off it, Malfoy," Harry scoffed, "We've gone up against your dad's mates before. We know what we're getting into."

"Maybe you do," Draco hissed, "But my mother doesn't. And I'm NOT letting her be killed."

* * *

Remus couldn't sleep. He had tossed and turned for the past three hours, and still nothing. He stared at the ceiling. All he could think about was Narcissa's angry face, and how much she had looked like her niece, Tonks, when she was mad. 

He got out of bed and put on his bathrobe. His throat felt dry. It was almost full moon – unbelievable, how quickly the months passed by. Another night or so – and he'd have to retire to Harry's basement. He wasn't going to risk leaving them alone again, if what Draco thought was true, and Bellatrix was coming for them.

He padded down the stairs towards the kitchen. Then he stopped. Someone had left a candle burning – or someone was still in there.

He took his wand from his pocket and held it out in front of him. Then he slowly pushed the door open.

Narcissa was sitting at the kitchen table, pieces of parchment and torn envelopes scattered all around her. She was reading Andromeda's letters.

She looked up when she heard the door open. In the pale light, her face reddened.

"I'm sorry," Remus muttered, "I just wanted a drink of water. I'll let you go."

"Please don't," Narcissa replied, kicking one of the chairs out towards him, "Sit."

Remus poured a glass of water and sat in the proffered chair.

"I've been going over Andromeda's letters," she explained awkwardly, "Trying to remember anything I can. But they're all so vague – they all take place after I turned seventeen or so."

Remus felt a fresh stab of pain. Seventeen – when she'd left him for Lucius. Why? When was this going to go away? He quashed his hurt feelings and put on a concerned face.

Narcissa seemed preoccupied, "They're all pretty cryptic – I don't know why Trixie wanted to kill her."

"Trixie?" Remus asked mildly.

Narcissa nodded, "That's what we used to call her. When we were little."

Remus remembered this. But the "Trixie" he remembered was a tall, forbidding woman who may have once been pretty, but who now was so evil she seemed ugly to the core. He picked up a letter, "Do you mind?"

"Go right ahead. I haven't been able to remember much from reading them."

Remus unfolded the sheet of paper, "It's dated ten years ago," he said.

"That's one of the later ones," Narcissa replied, "Here's the earliest. I'll read it to you. It's dated twenty years ago." She cleared her throat.

"_Dear Narcissa,_

_I received your latest letter with a heavy heart. I am sorry to hear of your misfortunes, of the betrayal of your friends, and that you have left school. Please remember that it is not too late to change your mind and return. Heaven knows that an education is invaluable, and you shouldn't give it up._

_Narcissa, darling, I know that you were in love, and that you are upset, but you must understand that these are not reasons to throw your life away on someone like Lucius Malfoy, who does not love you. You have seen what happened to Trixie – how cold and hardened she is. That is what happens to girls who enter arranged marriages with men they don't love. And she wasn't even that kind to begin with; I shudder to imagine what a girl with your sweet nature would be like after a few years of marriage to someone like Lucius. Narcissa, it pains me to think of it._

_My dear one, there is still time. I will speak to your former fiancé, I will try to work this out. There is a chance that this was all a misunderstanding, and I can't bear to think of you marrying the wrong man if the right one is still in love with you. I hope you will not hate me for trying to intercede on your behalf. Please know that I do this because I love you, and that I miss you very, very much._

_Stay strong, darling. I will write soon._

_Yours,_

_Andromeda._"

Narcissa looked at Remus, "Fiancé?"

Remus could not look back at her. He studied his fingernails, trying to ignore her as she stared at him with her big blue eyes full of questions he could not bear to answer.

"What does she mean by fiancé?"

"Don't ask me; I don't know," Remus said too quickly.

But Narcissa at thirty-seven was every bit as sharp at spotting an evasion.

"You know something," she replied.

"No, I don't," Remus said, willing his voice to remain clear.

"You know something, and you won't tell me what it is!"

"I told you, I can't tell you anything you don't remember by yourself."

"That's bull and you know it! You told me I had a sister! You told me today, when Andromeda was dead!"

"And look how it turned out!"

"What do you mean?" Narcissa cried, "If you had told me before, perhaps I might have had a chance to reconcile with her! Perhaps she and her husband would still be alive!"

"Do not put that on my conscience!" Remus jumped to his feet. "Don't blame me for things that aren't my fault!"

"I didn't say it was your fault! But you're keeping something from me, and I need to know what it is. Someone else could be in danger!"

"How do you figure?"

"How do I – Remus, open your eyes!" Narcissa gestured around her, "Haven't you noticed that the people who are associated with me have a tendency to end up dead? Someone is coming for me, Remus, for me and Draco. If this fiancé of mine has any answers, or could possibly be in danger, I have to find him!"

"Trust me," Remus said bitterly, "He can take care of himself."

"Why are you being like this?" Narcissa asked, "Do you want me to live in this darkness for the rest of my life?"

"No!" Remus shouted, "I want you to see clearly. I want you to remember what you should remember and to forget the things you had no business remembering in the first place. And trust me, this is one of those things you shouldn't remember."

"Why is that?"

"Because you shouldn't."

"I had a fiancé? And I left him for Lucius?"

"He left you."

"Why did he leave me?"

"Because you weren't meant for each other."

"Why? Why weren't we meant for each other?"

"Just let it go, Narcissa. Trust me, he doesn't want to remember. If he could, he'd have forgotten you by now." Remus' gaze turned bitter, "It isn't as if you remember him, after all."

Narcissa went still, "That's not fair, and you know it."

Remus looked away, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It wasn't my place."

"No," she replied, "You shouldn't have said it because it wasn't true. I forgot everything because Lucius cursed me."

And then she stood stock-still. For a minute, Remus wondered if she was having a heart attack.

Then she murmured, "The curse – Remus – was that why I was cursed?"

Remus didn't answer.

"Did Lucius curse me because he wanted me and he knew I was in love with someone else?"

No answer.

"That's the reason! He wanted me to forget about my fiancé, to forget I was ever in love with someone else – and to marry him! That's it!"

Remus could feel his fingers trembling. He willed himself to stay still.

Narcissa grabbed the front of his bathrobe.

"You know who it is," she whispered, "Remus, please tell me!"

"It wouldn't make a difference if I did," Remus answered.

"Because he hates me?" she asked.

"No," Remus whispered, "Because you could not bring yourself to fall in love with him again."

"Tell me who he is!"

"I can't!"

"Remus, please!"

Remus yanked the bathrobe out of her hands, "No! I won't tell you."

He was breathing heavily.

"You've figured out this much, Narcissa. Let's see if you can figure out the rest. Goodnight."

He picked up his glass of water and walked out, leaving Narcissa alone, surrounded with sheets of paper, and unanswered questions.


	15. Suicide Mission

The next morning, Remus and Narcissa both appeared bleary-eyed at the breakfast table. Draco and Harry and Ginny looked wary, as if they expected to have their heads bitten off at the slightest word. But nobody said anything. It was a relatively silent meal. Remus and Narcissa were pointedly ignoring each other, which was almost as bad as when the teenagers had been. Draco and Harry were stunned into politeness, and Draco even managed a "thank you" when Harry passed him the bacon.

"Um – my mum invited Harry and me for dinner tonight," Ginny began awkwardly, "May we go?"

Remus nodded, "I'll have Draco lock me into the basement tonight."

Draco looked up, "What?"

"Full moon," Harry answered. Draco looked from Harry to Remus, his face going a shade paler.

"Full moon?" he asked.

"I shall be locked in – and only you and your mother will have the key," Remus replied wearily, "You shall be perfectly safe."

Draco did not look convinced.

Narcissa did not say anything. She picked at her meal slowly and cleared the dishes away before everyone was even done. Remus watched her with a sad look on his face, but said nothing.

He could have bitten his tongue off for his cruel words to her last night. She was only trying to remember, of course – she didn't mean anything personal by it. But every time he thought of the past twenty years, his expression darkened. Hadn't he suffered? Why bother trying to open those wounds again? She wasn't in love with him anymore, and that was that. He slammed his fork down onto his plate harder than he thought. Draco and Harry both looked up at the loud clanking sound, then looked hurriedly away.

After breakfast, Remus retired to the cellar, where he would be spending the next night. Ginny emerged from her bedroom holding one of her nicer dresses, the one she planned on wearing to dinner.

"It's got a tear in it," she complained, "Narcissa, can you mend it?"

"Yes," Narcissa replied automatically.

She seemed almost in a trance, as if she was thinking very hard about something and she couldn't be bothered with ordinary matters. Draco pointedly avoided her throughout the day. He felt she needed to be alone.

Perhaps the shock of her sister's murder was too much for her.

"Your mum seems a bit off," Harry commented, for lack of anything better to say, when he walked in on Draco listlessly brushing frost from one of the windows.

"She's fine," Draco answered shortly, but there was no cruelty in his voice. He mind was working rapidly.

It would work. It had to work. It was his mother's only chance.

* * *

Hours later, Ginny and Harry waved to Narcissa as they walked down the path to the street. Ginny couldn't Apparate yet, so they would be taking the Knight Bus to the Weasleys' for dinner. 

Ginny was feeling slightly disgruntled. She was finally bringing Harry home as her boyfriend, and he was looking all around him nervously, as if he'd rather be anywhere but with her. As if he couldn't concentrate.

She tugged impatiently at his hand, "What's going on?"

He didn't answer.

"Harry?"

Finally, he turned to her, "Ginny, you go on ahead. I'll catch up to you later, okay?"

She frowned, "What are you doing?"

"Trust me on this, okay? Go on to your parents and make my apologies. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Harry – "

Harry reached out his wand hand and BAM! The Knight Bus appeared. The doors swung open ominously – without Stan Shunpike, the Bus seemed odder and colder than it ever had. Ernie, the bus driver, nodded as politely as he knew how. Ginny looked sickened.

"Please take her where she directs you, Ernie," Harry called firmly, giving Ginny a hand up onto the steps.

She whirled around to look at him.

"Harry, please."

"I'll be fine," he assured her, "I'll be along before you know it."

The bus doors swung shut, and with another loud bang, the Knight Bus vanished.

With a determined look, Harry rounded and walked into the bushes, crouching in the darkness.

His suspicions were confirmed. Moments later, he heard a squeaking sound. A window opened on the top floor of the house. Draco put one leg out first, then the other. He glanced around nervously, then shimmied down the drainpipe and down to the ground. He looked around again, then started off.

"Going somewhere?" Harry asked.

Draco lunged around, wand already in his hand. He tensed up when he saw Harry.

"What business is it of yours?" he asked defensively.

Harry stood up and left the bushes.

"You're running away, aren't you?"

"Get out of it."

"You're going to leave your mother, when your aunt is coming after her to kill her?"

"That's not it at all."

"Looks that way to me."

Draco glared at him, "Shows how much you know then, doesn't it?"

Harry grabbed his arm.

"Get off me!"

"You can't just walk out on her!"

Draco leaned in until his nose was an inch from Harry's.

"Can't you get it through your thick head, Potter? She isn't the one they want. It's ME. They're coming after ME. And if I draw them out, get them away from her – then they'll leave her alone."

"It's a suicide mission!" Harry protested, "You're going to get yourself killed!"

"Yeah? Well, too bad for me," Draco shot, "They're not going to get my mother, Potter. She didn't do anything. It was all my father and I. We got her into this mess – and since he's dead, and it's up to me, I'm going to get her out of it."

"She'll fight for you," Harry murmured, "She isn't going to give you up. You're all she has now."

"She has Remus Lupin," Draco muttered, turning his back on Harry, "He'll take care of her from now on."

"What?" Harry laughed, "Lupin – and your mother?"

Draco whirled on him, "Don't tell me you haven't noticed the way he looks at her. Do you think I like to see someone else moving in on my mother? My father hasn't even been dead six months. But it's too dangerous for me to stay with her."

"You idiot."

Draco turned, angry.

Harry barreled on, "She doesn't need anyone looking after her. She wants you! She wants her son!"

"And if I stay with her, she'll be killed!" Draco shouted.

"She knows that!" Harry shot back, "You don't see her running out on you, do you?"

Draco stared at him. Then he sunk to his knees on the pavement, staring around him bleakly. Harry felt awkward, just standing there beside him.

"I feel as if I'm sinking deeper and deeper into hell," Draco muttered, "And I'm losing any chances of redeeming myself."

Harry crouched down beside him.

"She doesn't want you to redeem yourself. She wants you to stay alive."

"If I stay with her – she'll die."

"We won't let that happen."

"How can you stop it?" Draco asked him.

Harry shrugged, "I've been lucky before – I can only hope I'll be lucky again."

Draco drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Harry realized that it was getting colder outside – November. He shivered, despite his thick sweater.

"We should go back in," he mentioned.

Draco shook his head, "I don't know what to do anymore." He bit his lip and looked at Harry. "You don't know what it's like. I'm the reason why she's in hiding. If it wasn't for me, she'd be safe."

"If it wasn't for your father, you wouldn't be in this position." Harry instantly regretted his words. Draco glared at him.

"Don't you have a go at my father."

"Sorry." Harry snapped a branch between his fingers, "My point is, it's not your fault, and even if it was, your running away isn't going to change anything."

"How do you figure?"

"She'll go after you," Harry replied, "She'll look for you anyway. She loves you too much to give you up."

Draco's gray eyes widened. Harry felt like grinning. Draco looked just like his mother when he was surprised.

"I hadn't considered that," he said softly. "So no matter what I do, we're stuck."

"You're NOT stuck," Harry said forcefully, "Don't you understand? You're one of us now. We're not going to let either of you be hurt without a fight."

Draco looked at him scornfully, "You don't like me, Potter. You never have. And now you're saying I can trust you?"

"You're right. I don't like you, I never have, and maybe I never will," Harry replied, "But Lupin trusts you, and he trusts your mother, and even if he didn't, well – your aunt's not my most favorite person in the world, so I'm not exactly going to start getting buddy-buddy with her and handing innocent people over to her whenever she asks."

Draco looked sideways at him.

Harry swallowed, "Look – I was there – I saw you with Dumbledore."

Draco looked away.

"I didn't want to kill him," he muttered, "I didn't want to at all. I mean – I never really liked Dumbledore – he didn't seem to think much of me, either. But then - I mean, they were going to kill my mum and dad if I didn't do it! What was I supposed to do? It was my parents, or some old man that didn't care tuppence for me!" He exhaled, then said bitterly, "And, I know he was your friend. But my mum and dad were more important to me. Oh, you wouldn't understand."

"You're right," Harry replied, "I wouldn't. I never met my mum and dad."

Draco cringed, "That's not what I meant."

"I know."

Draco looked at him, his eyes pleading, "I didn't have a choice, Harry. I love my mum. I love – loved – my dad. I couldn't just let him kill them."

Harry closed his eyes.

For so many months – ever since Dumbledore's death – he had dreamed that he would be standing in front of Draco, while Draco, helpless, pleaded for his life. And he had always dreamed that he, Harry, would blast him to pieces. Because Draco wasn't anything but a soulless monster, wasn't he?

But he wasn't. Draco was standing before him with wide, pleading eyes, as open and honest as his mother's, despite his father's gray shade. He wasn't a monster. He was someone who had gotten involved over his head. Besides (and he knew that Ginny and Ron and Hermione would blanch if they knew he was thinking this) – had his father and mother not been as strong-willed as they had been, wouldn't he have been raised in this way as well? Wouldn't he be just another one of Voldemort's frightened minions?

Harry reached out and touched Draco on the shoulder. Draco stiffened slightly, but didn't move away.

"It's okay," Harry said softly, "I won't hurt you."

Draco turned, ever so slightly, and looked at him. Harry managed a very small smile.

They heard the door of Number 12 open. Narcissa's voice was heard, loud, clear, and terrified.

"Draco? Draco!"

"I'm here, Mum!" Draco shouted, jumping to his feet.

Narcissa's white, scared face broke into a relieved smile, "What are you two doing out here?"

Harry jumped up quickly and stuffed his hands into his pockets, "We were just talking."

"Well, come on inside," Narcissa said, "It's not safe for either of you two to be out there. It's getting dark, besides."

"I'm supposed to be at the Weasley's," Harry said, "I sent Ginny on ahead. I, um, forgot something. But I have it now."

"You're coming home tonight?" Narcissa asked.

"No. But we'll be back tomorrow morning."

"Well, be safe," she warned. She held the door open, "Come on, sweetie. Into the house."

Draco flashed Harry a look of gratitude. He walked slowly up the stairs and felt his mother's hand on his back. She ushered him inside, then gave Harry a quick smile and shut the door behind her, locking it firmly.

Harry put his hands in his pockets.

"Well, it's a start," he said aloud.

He closed his eyes and Apparated out of sight.


	16. Two AM

At 2 AM, Narcissa sat in the living room, snuggled into a thin wrapper. It was so cold in the little house; Harry didn't want to alert suspicion, so he kept heating bills low. The thin silky camisole was more of a summer nightgown than a winter one, and with November turning to December, she was freezing. The wrapper helped some, but she was still so cold.

"Mum?"

Draco appeared at the foot of the stairs, dressed in a pair of Harry's pajamas, which were far too short in the legs. He wrapped his arms around himself. "I'm freezing."

"Me, too." She gestured for him to sit beside her. Draco crossed the floor in two strides and flopped onto the couch. She wrapped her arms around him and tossed the wrapper over him, and he burrowed, shivering, against her.

"Do you think he's okay?" Draco asked.

"Who?"

"The werewolf."

"His name is Remus," Narcissa sighed, "And I'm sure he's all right. He does this every month, remember?"

Draco frowned, "What a horrible life to lead."

"What's that, dear?"

"Being a werewolf," Draco replied, "It must be so difficult for him. How do you think he stands it?"

"Oh, I don't know," Narcissa replied, brushing back Draco's white-blonde bangs, "He has friends who love him; I suppose that's all someone needs to get by."

Draco said nothing.

Narcissa smiled, "You're getting so big," she said, "My grown-up son. I can't believe how time has flown."

"Mum?" Draco asked suddenly.

"Yes?"

He swallowed, "I'm – I'm really sorry. For everything."

Narcissa's heart dropped, "Oh, sweetheart." She hugged him tighter. "Look at me. This is going to pass. We're going to be all right. We'll find some way to survive. Remus says he's going to help us. We'll get you exonerated, and then – we'll go on with life, I suppose. We're tough to kill."

"Do you like him?"

"Like who?"

"Remus Lupin."

Narcissa bit her lower lip. "Wouldn't that be silly."

Draco looked at her knowingly.

On the other side of the house, the front door opened and closed.

"Harry and Ginny must have come back early," Narcissa said quickly.

Draco smiled ironically. She was trying so hard to cover up for herself. He stood up and brushed the wrapper off his lap.

"Well, well – isn't this cozy?"

Draco's wand was in his hand before the speaker finished. Narcissa gasped.

Standing in the living room was a tall woman in a burgundy dress, with a black cloak over her shoulders. Her thick mahogany hair was shot with silver and swept into an elaborate hairstyle. Her eyes were sunken in her face. She had the appearance of someone who had once been pretty, but whose beauty had been destroyed over years of concentrated evil.

"_Expelliarmous_!" she shouted.

Draco's and Narcissa's wands soared out of their hands and into her own. She laughed.

"Really, the Dark Lord overestimated both of you," she said, "I might have known you'd be here, waiting like sitting ducks for me to come for you."

Draco edged in front of Narcissa, shielding her with his body.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Draco," the woman snickered, "If I want to kill her, I will. You certainly won't stop me. I told you before, the chance to give her an easy, painless death was yours. If you squandered that opportunity, it's through no fault of mine."

Narcissa's blue eyes were wide, "Bellatrix."

Bellatrix Lestrange looked at her sister with mock surprise, "So you do remember me, after all! I should have known you would. Lucius was a miserable wizard; very little talent. If it hadn't been for his money or connections, I doubt that the Dark Lord would have wasted time on him.

"I brought an old friend with me tonight," she continued, gesturing to the doorway, "I don't think you know him, Cissa, dear, but your son certainly will remember him."

A second figure appeared, and Narcissa stifled a scream. A fully-grown werewolf loped into the room, his eyes fixed on her and Draco. His fur was matted with blood, and his teeth were twisted into a blood-stained smile.

_God help us_, Narcissa thought desperately.

"This is Fenrir Greyback," Bellatrix said in a song-song voice, "He's an old friend of Lucius', as well. Unfortunately, he's a little keyed-up at the moment. He hasn't had dinner yet, either. So I made a little deal with him."

Draco's eyes were wide, and his face was bone-white, but determined, his head held high. Narcissa grabbed his arm, but he pushed her off. "Stay back, Mum," he muttered.

Bellatrix continued in her same sing-song voice, "Since I haven't seen you for so many years, dear sister – and since we have so much to talk about, what with Andromeda dying and all – " She smiled, "I think I'll deal with you.

"And my dear nephew," she continued, "can play with Fenrir!"

At her last words, the werewolf leaped onto Draco, flinging him to the floor. Draco shouted and struggled, trying to break free, but the werewolf held him down, tearing at his shirt with his claws and teeth.

Narcissa screamed. She tried to run to him, but Bellatrix raised her wand and shouted, "CRUCIO!" Remembering the spell from Draco's attack, Narcissa leapt out of the way, behind a credenza, and rolled across the carpet.

"Let's not make this agonizingly drawn out!" Bellatrix called in a bored tone, "You never were a very good witch, Cissa. I'd hate to have this be long-winded and tedious when it doesn't have to be."

There was a sound of ripping skin and gristle; the werewolf had found his mark. Draco screamed, a blood-curdling sound. Narcissa felt her body turn to water, as if she might faint. _No! I have to stay alive for my son!_

She leapt to her feet and ran as fast as her legs could carry her for the cellar door. She unlocked it and threw the door open. The blackness yawned underneath, and she could not hear any movement. She had only one chance.

"REMUS!" she screamed.

She didn't know if he would recognize her voice, in his condition. But as she ran from the top of the stairs, she heard the galloping motions of a wolf, coming up towards her. A second werewolf leapt out from the basement, his eyes fixed on Narcissa.

She ran back to the living room. Bellatrix had vanished – to where, Narcissa didn't know. She saw Fenrir standing over her son's limp body, and she felt a scream welling up inside her. But Remus had followed her into the room, and when he caught sight of the werewolf in the room, his tell-tale blue eyes widened in recognition. He narrowed them and began to growl.

The two wolves began circling each other, across from Draco's body. They growled and snorted, each of them staring at the other, as if daring him to attack. Finally, with a bark of anger, Fenrir jumped over Draco and tackled Remus. The two of them began snorting and biting each other, rolling in a pair on the floor.

Narcissa ran towards her son, slipped in a pool of blood, jumped up, grabbed his shirt, and dragged him into the parlor. Was he alive? The wound at his neck was gaping and raw; his pajamas were a mess of blood. Where was Bellatrix?

"Right behind you, sister dear."

Narcissa turned around, her hand up to protect her face, standing before Draco's limp form. Bellatrix was standing in front of her, smirking, holding her wand at Narcissa's heart.

"What have you done?" Narcissa whispered.

Bellatrix's eyes were cold and cruel, "You have gone through life with your eyes closed. Always thinking people were better than they were. You always needed a steady hand to tell you what was right and what was wrong. Why didn't you leave well enough alone, Cissa?"

"What do you mean?"

"Everything!" Bellatrix gestured around her, "This place! Why did you kill Lucius, Cissa? Why did you come looking for Harry? Who are these people, your new friends? You've put them in more danger than they've ever been before. They're all going to die, and it's all because of you."

Narcissa blocked Draco's body with hers, extending her arms to the sides. Bellatrix laughed out loud.

"What do I care what you do? He's already dead. And the others will be dead soon, as well. You've failed, Narcissa. Did you ever think you were going to amount to anything? All your life, you've been nothing but a pretty face and nothing more."

She tossed Narcissa her wand.

"Here. To make things more even." She laughed, "Although you have absolutely no hope."

Narcissa fingered her wand in her hand.

"Lucius was all wrong about you," Bellatrix went on, relishing every word, "He always thought you were worth so much more than you were. You used to be, you know. Mum and Dad always did love you the most - you were so pretty, prettier than Andromeda and I could have hoped to be."

Her eyes narrowed.

"But then you had to throw it all away on that half-breed fiance of yours."

"What do you mean?" Narcissa asked.

But Bellatrix ignored her, "No wonder your son was so pathetic. You're lucky I killed him now, before he turned into an even bigger failure!"

Narcissa's eyes narrowed.

_She's my sister - and she tried to kill my son!_

Bellatrix was shouting.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA_!"

Narcissa ducked; the blast missed her. She bolted to the other side of the room. Bellatrix cursed and turned around.

"Dammit, Narcissa! I'm not playing games!"

"Neither am I!" Narcissa screamed. She threw her wand arm into the air and pointed it straight at Bellatrix as best she could.

"_AVADA KEDVRA!_"

In her own memory, she could not remember having ever cast a Killing Curse. She'd always heard, before, that to make it count, you really had to mean it. She did not want to kill her sister - but she _did _want the woman responsible for hurting her son to be dead.

Bellatrix's scream was cut off. She dropped to the floor, eyes wide and staring.

She was dead.

Breathing hard, Narcissa turned from her sister's body and ran back to her son. She couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. Tears filled her eyes. _Oh, God, let him be alive!_

_

* * *

_  
"Narcissa."

Someone was touching her shoulder. Narcissa's head shot up, her eyes snapping open. She looked into Remus' tired, blood-streaked face.

"You're alive," she whispered.

He nodded tiredly.

"Is he?"

"No," he replied, "He's dead." He hesitated, "Bellatrix?"

"She's dead."

Remus nodded. He knelt down beside Narcissa and laid his ear against Draco's chest.

"He's alive," he said.

"I wasn't sure," she whispered. "What happened?"

"You cried yourself to sleep. For how long, I don't know," Remus replied, "I wrestled Fenrir until dawn came. When we turned back into humans, I used my wand and killed him."

He didn't mention to her the demons in his mind as he'd wrestled with the man who had turned him into a werewolf so many years ago. He didn't mention the incredible satisfaction he'd had when he'd killed Greyback. Now was not the time.

"We have to get him to St. Mungo's," Remus continued, "As soon as possible. He's lost a lot of blood."

"But the Ministry?" Narcissa asked faintly.

Remus lifted Draco into his arms, "They can't take a boy who is bleeding to death. I'll take him myself. Are you coming with me?"

"I'm not leaving him."

"Then let's go."

Draco's head flopped against Remus' chest. He moaned. Narcissa grabbed his hand, her eyes filled with tears.

"It's okay, Draco," Remus muttered, "I've got you."

The door opened as Narcissa yanked her cloak on. Harry and Ginny stepped in, their eyes wide with surprise.

"Dad and the others are on their way," Ginny managed, "Draco – is he?"

"We're going to St. Mungo's," Remus said, "We'll be back soon."

The two teenagers parted ways and let them pass, watching them move down the walk way. Neither of them spoke.

There was nothing left to say.


	17. Surrender

"We need medical assistance! Somebody help!"

Remus ran through the front doors at St. Mungo's, Draco's bleeding body draped over his arms, with Narcissa, in a cloak and her thin camisole, fast on his heels. Healers poured out of doorways and gasped, running for their medical equipment, trying to help. Two of them produced a stretcher; Remus lifted Draco onto it. Someone prodded his neck wound with a wand. Draco let out an ear-splitting howl of pain and began writing in agony. Narcissa burst into tears again and clung to his hand. Remus shoved the assailant out of the way roughly, shouting, "Idiot! We need some help!"

Someone ripped Narcissa away. She screamed and fought against him, calling for her son. Healers surrounded Draco. One of them pointed his wand at Draco's throat and muttered "Episky." The blood flow stopped.

"You have to let him go," another healer said to Remus, who had not let go of the stretcher since he had put Draco on it.

Remus shook his head, "I'm not leaving him."

"Let me go! Let me go!" Narcissa sobbed, "That's my son!"

Someone shouted, "It's the Malfoy boy! Look at him! He looks just like his dead father!"

Silence fell over the room, except for the sound of Draco's incoherent moans.

"Someone alert the Ministry," a low voice said, "This boy is a criminal."

Narcissa broke free and flung herself between the stretcher and the healers.

"Nobody's taking him! He's injured, can't you see? A werewolf bit him."

"A werewolf!" Voices hushed. Remus could sense a few people staring at him suspiciously.

"It was Fenrir Greyback," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Calm down! He's dead. The Ministry must be alerted. But you must help this boy! He's going to die without medical attention!"

The healers looked at each other questioningly. Then, several of them took the stretcher and began pushing it through the double doors. Narcissa tried to run after it, but Remus stopped her.

"I can't leave him! Draco – "

"No, Narcissa! They'll take care of him. Right now, you need to stay with me," Remus replied determinedly, "We have a lot of explaining to do."

The main entrance doors opened and Rufus Scrimgeour, along with several Aurors from the Ministry, came charging through. Remus felt Narcissa stiffen next to him. He held her hand tightly, willing her silently, don't say anything. Let me take care of this.

"Where is he?" Scrimgeour bellowed, "Where is the Malfoy boy?"

He stopped short when he saw them, "Remus Lupin? Is that you?"

"It's me," Remus answered, "And you can't see Draco Malfoy. Not yet."

"You've been hiding them?" Scrimgeour asked incredulously, "You've been hiding Draco and his mother? For all of these months?"

Remus nodded.

Scrimgeour turned a nasty shade of scarlet, "Dumbledore's would-be killer? You hid him from us?"

"He is NOT a killer!" Narcissa cried.

"Narcissa, be quiet! Let me handle this," Remus urged her, squeezing her hand tighter.

He turned back to Scrimgeour, "Mrs. Malfoy is right, Minister. It's true that Draco Malfoy was ordered by the Dark Lord to murder Albus Dumbledore. But there are several eyewitnesses – including Harry Potter – who saw Draco hesitate, and saw Severus Snape murder Dumbledore. Which I believe you knew, when you swore out the warrant for his arrest."

Scrimgeour bristled, "How do you figure, Lupin?"

"Simple," Remus took a deep breath, "You have him wanted for attempted murder. Not for the murder itself."

"Semantics," Scrimgeour shouted, "I want that boy taken into custody."

"He's been bitten by a werewolf," Remus replied, "He's in critical condition."

"A werewolf?" Scrimgeour blanched.

Remus nodded, "Fenrir Greyback."

Scrimgeour's eyes flickered over to Narcissa's face, which was as pale as milk. Her blue eyes looked very bright, rimmed as they were in red from her tears.

He took a deep breath, seeming to be making a concerted effort at tact.

"We need to take someone in for questioning, Remus," he said with difficulty.

"Then I'll go," Remus replied.

"Not you," Scrimgeour cut him off, "We need the boy."

"I told you, you can't take him yet."

"I'll go."

Narcissa stepped forward and let go of Remus' hand.

"Narcissa, he needs you," Remus replied softly, "Let me go, I'll take care of this."

"No," she stopped him, "Listen to me. I'm tired of running. I'm tired of worrying that my son is going to be hurt. If I had turned the two of us in long before now, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe my son wouldn't be between life and death behind those doors." Her voice cracked. She swallowed and began again.

"You've done too much for us already. It's time to stop running."

Remus felt sick. "Narcissa."

"Stay with Draco. He needs you now more than he needs me." She squeezed his hand.

She knows, Remus realized. He felt his eyes filling with tears.

"Don't cry," she whispered, "Or I'll start up again."

She turned back to Scrimgeour and squared her shoulders. "I'm ready, Minister."

Scrimgeour jerked his head in assent. He nodded to one of the Aurors standing next to him. The Auror took his wand out and pointed it at Narcissa's wrists.

Remus' heart leapt into his throat, "Don't you dare restrain her!" he shouted, "She's going willingly, isn't she? She's unarmed!"

Scrimgeour glanced at Narcissa, shivering in the thin camisole and inadequate cloak, with no place to disguise her wand. He shook his head, and the Auror put his wand away. Two Aurors flanked Narcissa on each side, and escorted her from the building. She did not look back.

Scrimgeour looked at Remus one last time. It was a look of regret. Then he turned and followed them out the door.

* * *

Hours later, Healer Smethewyck came out, looking sweaty and exhausted, and sat next to Remus in the waiting room.

"I remember you," he said, "I was Mr. Arthur Weasley's Healer, back last year when he was here with snakebite. Remember? You were so kind to that patient – the werewolf."

"I have good reason to be," Remus replied shortly, "How is Draco?"

"He's sustained a lot of blood loss," the Healer replied, "And he's going to have a nasty scar. But he's going to live."

Remus closed his eyes in relief.

"I should let you know, though," Smethewyck went on, looking pained, "It was a clean bite. He's not going to have an easy time of it from now on."

"He's going to be a werewolf, isn't he?" Remus asked quietly.

"I'm afraid so."

Remus felt his insides melt inside him, as if they were turning into water. He thought of all of his years, growing up with the stigma of the bite, of feeling like an outsider, of being unable to get a job. Draco would have to go through all that now. Narcissa's son. _Narcissa!_ He thought of her and felt worse. Narcissa would be heartbroken. He felt tears welling in his eyes and angrily brushed them away. Was he never going to stop crying?

"It's not as bad as that, sir," Smethewyck said comfortingly, "He's going to live, and that's something, isn't it? And these days werewolves can live perfectly normal lives. You're living proof of that."

Remus looked at his feet and nodded.

"Are you the boy's guardian?" Smethewyck asked, businesslike.

Remus did not know how to answer, "Well – I'm looking after him."

"He's going to need looking after," the Healer replied, "Give us another hour or so, and then you can go in and see him. All right?"

Remus nodded. Smethewyck got up and pushed his way through the double doors. Remus watched him go, and then got to his feet.

Draco was all right. Good. That was one fear off his mind. The fact that Draco would be a werewolf in only a few hours' time was another matter entirely – he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Right now, he had something else to worry about.

Narcissa.

* * *

"Where is she?" 

Remus was so angry he thought he might hit Scrimgeour. The Minister's face was a mottled angry purple color, and he looked rather affronted.

"We finished questioning her about an hour ago," he said stiffly. "She's in the holding cell."

"You put her in a cell? In this cold?" Remus grabbed Scrimgeour by the front of his robes, "Did you not see what she was wearing?"

"Get your hands off me," Scrimgeour demanded, pulling Remus' hands from the front of his robes.

Remus stepped back, breathing heavily.

"This is a gross miscarriage of justice," he said slowly, "She hasn't done anything wrong."

"She herself is responsible for the miscarriage of justice!" Scrimgeour bellowed, "She's been harboring a known criminal!"

"Look," Remus hissed, leaning close to Scrimgeour's face, "Her son isn't going to be conducting any Death Eater activity any time soon. He's going to be a werewolf for the rest of his life."

Scrimgeour turned white. "And I suppose you want to take him home, is that it? You want us to drop the charges?"

"You think I'm like Fenrir Greyback?" Remus could not believe his ears, "That's exactly the sort of stereotypical point of view I should have come to expect from the Ministry. It's a wonder that I still hold out on hope that some day you'll recognize us for what we really are – people, just like you."

Scrimgeour's expression did not alter.

"You can see her in the holding cell," he said dispassionately, "She'll be arraigned later this afternoon."

Remus wanted to spit in Scrimgeour's face. He turned his back on him and walked towards the elevator.

The doors opened, and Dawlish, one of the Aurors who had escorted Narcissa to the Ministry, ran past him towards Scrimgeour.

"Minister," he managed, "We've found Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback. Both dead."

"What?" Scrimgeour asked. "They're dead? You're sure?"

Dawlish nodded, "I'm positive. Harry Potter alerted us to their presence. They were killed this morning."

"Who did it?" Scrimgeour demanded, "They shall be commended."

Dawlish looked uncomfortable, "According to Potter – Narcissa Malfoy and Remus Lupin."

Scrimgeour's face went pink again.

"Impossible," he said.

He turned to Remus. "Lupin! Is this true?"

Remus looked at him stonily.

"You'll have to ask Narcissa."

He stepped into the elevator and ignored their pointed stares as the doors swung closed.


	18. Surprise Witness

She was in cell three, leaning against the wall, her face a mask of utter despair. Someone had taken her cloak away from her. She was huddled up in a ball, her arms wrapped around her knees, her hair limp and dirty, her thin camisole stained and inadequate against the cold. She was shivering, rocking back and forth, her eyes almost blind from crying.

Remus ran to the door and thrust his hand through the bars, "Narcissa!"

Her eyes lit up for a moment. She crawled to the door and grabbed his hand.

"You came back for me," she said in disbelieving happiness.

"Did you think I would leave you here?" Remus asked, "Your hands are like ice. Where's your cloak?"

"They took it from me," Narcissa replied, shivering, "It doesn't matter. Is he alive?"

"He's alive."

Narcissa closed her eyes and began crying again, "Thank God."

"Narcissa – there's something else," Remus hesitated, "He's not going to be the same again. You have to understand this."

"He's going to be a werewolf. I know," she nodded, her jaw set, "That's why it was more important for you to stay with him. You can help him. Me, I'm no good for anything."

"Don't say that," Remus rubbed her fingers between his palms, trying to warm them, "You're his mother. If it wasn't for you, he would never have gotten this far. He owes his life to you."

Narcissa shook her head, "Now I know how Lucius must have felt, when he was in prison. I don't know if they're going to let me go, Remus."

"They have to," Remus replied forcefully, "I'm not going to let you rot in prison. I told Lucius I would protect you both. And I'm going to keep that promise."

Narcissa smiled faintly, "You've done more than your share. But I think this is the end of the line for me, Remus. I don't know if I have any fight left. If they want to turn me over to the Dementors, they're going to. And I don't know if I have the strength to try and stop them anymore."

"Draco needs you!"

"He's never needed me. If he needed me, then I would have been able to keep him from the Dark Lord. I could have raised him differently. I turned a blind eye; I let Lucius make all the decisions. And when Lucius told me that Draco wanted to be a Death Eater – I let him go. I didn't think I had a choice." Her expression was bitterly regretful, "But I had nothing but choices. Bellatrix was right. He is what he is because of me."

"Bellatrix was a cold-hearted bitch," Remus said angrily, "And the only reason that boy is alive today is because of you! You can't give up on him now, Narcissa. Not when he needs you so much."

"Don't you see? It isn't me he needs anymore. Lucius gave him to you, that day at Azkaban. He told you to look after him, to protect him. There's nothing I can do for him anymore. But you can save him. You can look after him; you can intercede for the judge. You can take care of him. Me, I'm useless. What can I do to help? You can do it, Remus. And you will. You promised Lucius you would."

"I don't care if you think Draco doesn't need you," Remus replied, his voice desperate, "I'm not going to let you give up. I need you, Narcissa. Don't you understand? I need you."

Narcissa's blue eyes widened.

Remus knew that he should stop, but he couldn't. The past twenty years that he'd kept bottled up inside came pouring out.

"I did a terrible thing to you, the worst I've ever done in my life. I've spent the past twenty years regretting it. I turned my back on you once when you asked me for help. I let you get into the worst situation that you could ever have gotten into. You say that you let Lucius Malfoy make all the decisions for you? Well, before Lucius Malfoy, I was the one who made the decisions. I handed you to him on a silver platter. I gave you to him, and he took over. Maybe he's responsible for getting you and Draco into this mess, but I tell you truthfully, Narcissa, that you never would have even been married to him – never would have had Draco – if it had been up to me."

"Remus – "

"No! Don't stop me. I've held this in for too long." Remus took a deep breath and barreled on.

"I've kept this all inside, for the past four months, because I kept telling myself that there were things you shouldn't remember, if you didn't have to. Things that would cause you pain if you remembered them. Because I remembered them, and they hurt me. So I kept you at arm's length, when all I wanted to do was draw you in, to ask your forgiveness, to explain to you that the reason you were in this position was because I was too pigheaded and stupid to admit that I was wrong before something terrible happened to you. The reason you married Lucius, the reason you were cursed, the reason you forgot everything was because I threw you away!"

Narcissa was crying again, "Please, Remus, stop!"

"No! I can't stop!" Remus grabbed her hands in his again, "Don't you understand? I loved you, Narcissa. I loved you and I gave you up. Because I was too stupid to believe that anyone could possibly love me for the way I was! But you loved me. You loved me and you kissed me like you meant it, and I knew that you meant it. And I knew in my heart that you loved me, but I couldn't bring myself to let go of my stupid selfish pigheadedness. I couldn't believe that you were different. I thought that you'd be just like everyone else, and in the end I would suffer for loving you. And I DID suffer, but you know what? You suffered so much more than I ever did! And you're suffering to this day, and that's my fault." His eyes filled with tears, "For so long, I've wanted to tell you that I loved you, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. But I'm going to say it now. I – "

Someone clapped a hand on Remus' shoulder. It was Dawlish.

"Come on," he said, "Prisoner needs to be taken upstairs to be arraigned."

"Please," Remus asked him, "another minute?"

"You've had quite enough time," Dawlish replied, "Let's go."

Remus did not let go of her hand, "Narcissa, please believe me."

She was sobbing now, "Remus."

Remus turned to Dawlish, "Is it always customary to take away protective garments from prisoners not yet arraigned? Give her the cloak back before she freezes to death."

He squeezed Narcissa's hand one last time, "Listen to me. I'm coming back for you. Do you understand? I'm going to check on Draco, and then I'll be back for your arraignment. I promise you this – I am coming back. I did not follow you all this way to desert you now. Do you believe me?"

Through her tears, she nodded.

Remus turned to Dawlish, "I'll be back."

He strode out of the prison without another word.

* * *

"Arraignment 93845. Narcissa Black Malfoy, 37, of 1486 Huntington Circle, Cambridge. Charged with accessory to the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, of miscarrying justice served, of hiding a person suspected of Death Eater activity, and of the murder of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy." 

Griselda Marchbanks lowered the sheet of paper and glanced at Rufus Scrimgeour. The Minister rose and bellowed, "Does the defendant wish to enter a plea?"

All eyes in Courtroom Six turned to Narcissa. She was standing in the middle of the room, still dressed in her inadequate camisole, her own dirty cloak thrown hastily over her shoulders. Her hair hung limply around her face – they had not given her a chance to wash up.

Sitting in the first row, Remus felt his heart clench. Narcissa had not been provided with a lawyer for such an occasion. He did not know if she could hold up under the pressure of the courtroom.

"Sir," Narcissa said faintly, "May I be permitted to speak freely?"

Scrimgeour glanced at the Wizengamot, then nodded, "Be brief."

"Thank you."

She cleared her throat, "I do not pretend that my actions have been legal according to our system of justice. I do not ask for you to believe me; I know that you won't. But I do say, with total honesty, that I have no memory of the events surrounding the murder of Albus Dumbledore, nor of the murder of Lucius Malfoy. But as to the charges of miscarrying justice served, and of hiding my son – yes, I plead guilty to those charges."

Several people started talking at once.

"Order in this courtroom," Scrimgeour demanded.

He looked at Narcissa again.

"Have you anyone to speak in your defense?"

"Right here."

Everyone turned. A woman in the third row had risen and was now walking down to the floor. Remus' heart leaped into his throat.

"Your name!" Scrimgeour demanded.

"Nymphadora Hecate Tonks," she replied clearly, "Speaker on the behalf of Narcissa Black Malfoy."

"Well, what have you to say?" Scrimgeour blustered.

Tonks cleared her own throat and looked at the crowd around her, "Ladies and gentlemen, you all know that recently my parents, Andromeda and Theodore, were murdered, and Death Eaters have been implicated in the crime."

Her face reflected pain for an instant, then cleared. She reached into her pocket.

"I offer this as exhibit A in the defense of Narcissa Malfoy," she announced, placing it in Scrimgeour's hand, "A brooch found on the floor of my parents' home the morning of their murders."

The crowd began to talk again. Scrimgeour inspected the brooch, turning it over and over in his hand, "This doesn't mean anything," he said.

Tonks ignored him, turning to the assembled crowd, "You also know that this morning, the bodies of Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback, known Death Eaters wanted by the Ministry, were discovered in the home of Harry Potter, where Narcissa Malfoy has admitted to hiding with her son."

She produced a wand from her cloak, "I present this as Exhibit B: the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange."

"This is ridiculous!" Scrimgeour shouted, "How can you prove that that wand belongs to Bellatrix Lestrange? Or that it's the wand that killed your parents?"

Tonk's eyes blazed. She lifted the wand into the air and shouted, "_PRIORI INCANTATUM!_"

For a minute, nothing happened. Then, the long, silvery form of a ghost flowed like air out of the tip of the wand. Several people began screaming. It was the ghost of a woman.

She was fortyish, with hair piled haphazardly on top of her head, her face lined and creased with the stress of her years. She had a distinctive scar on her neck.

Remus felt chills skate up and down his spine.

Tonk's eyes were filled with tears.

The ghost of Andromeda Tonks drifted down beside her daughter, to stand beside her. She touched her briefly on the shoulder, her eyes filled with regret and loss, but something else, too – pride. She said something that only Tonks could hear. Tonks nodded and brushed the tears out of her eyes.

Then the ghost turned and began to glide towards Narcissa. Narcissa's blue eyes widened so the whites were visible all around them. It had been over twenty years since she had last seen her sister. Now, she remembered exactly what she had looked like.

Andromeda stopped a few feet away from her sister. She reached out with a ghostly hand and touched Narcissa's cheek, brushed her dirty hair away from her face. Narcissa closed her eyes, leaning in to her sister's touch. Andromeda smiled softly. Then she whispered something else. Narcissa swallowed, then nodded.

Andromeda glided backwards from Narcissa. She looked at Remus for one long moment.

Then, she disappeared.

The crowd was talking loudly now. Narcissa appeared shaken. Remus' eyes were full of Tonks. Tonks was shaking, biting the back of her fist to keep from crying. She took a deep breath, composed herself, and turned to Scrimgeour.

"This woman standing here," she announced, "this ghost you all saw standing before you – my mother's ghost – would never have protected her killer."

She looked at Narcissa's still form.

"Even if that killer was her sister."


	19. After All

Tonks walked over to Scrimgeour and handed him the wand. "You can see that it hasn't been tampered with," she announced, "And that it bears initials on the handle."

Scrimgeour turned it over in his hands.

"B.L." he read in a low voice.

"The initials of Bellatrix Lestrange," Tonks said loudly.

"The Ministry should also know," she announced, "that Narcissa Black Malfoy admitted to Ministry Auror Dawlish, this morning in prison, that she brought about the death of Bellatrix Lestrange, who is also responsible for the attempted murder of her son, Draco."

Scrimgeour looked down at Narcissa, "Is this true?"

Narcissa licked her cracked lips.

"I did not want to kill my sister. But I did, yes - I admit that I did. She brought it upon herself."

"Why did she bring it upon herself?" Scrimgeour asked.

"My son and I were trying to escape from the Death Eaters," Narcissa murmured, "They were – they were forcing him to do terrible things – to atone for Lucius' failure. He was ordered to kill Dumbledore on the threat that the Dark Lord would kill – would kill his father and me. But he did not kill him!" she turned and looked around the courtroom, "My son could not kill him! That is why Severus Snape had to do it. Snape killed Dumbledore – because my son is not a killer."

She swallowed, "My son – managed to escape. He found me. Perhaps I should have turned him in. But I could not. He was my son – my son!" She shook her head, "I defy any mother to turn her back on her child, when he comes to her, and when he needs her. Draco did not attempt to return to the Dark Lord. He did not want anything to do with him anymore. But Bellatrix came after him. She killed my sister, Andromeda, and her husband, Theodore. She brought Fenrir Grayback to kill Draco. She came to kill me."

"Did she try to kill Draco? Or you?" Scrimgeour asked.

Narcissa nodded, "The werewolf – he bit Draco. Remus," – here she pointed, "Remus killed him. Bellatrix came after me."

"Did she say anything to you?"

"Yes. She said that she was surprised that I remembered her, and – "

Narcissa's eyes widened.

How had Bellatrix known that Narcissa had been robbed of her memory?

But more than that –

_"But then you had to throw it all away on that half-breed fiancé of yours."_

Like a bolt of lightning, it hit Narcissa.

It finally all made sense.

* * *

"You heard her," Tonks was saying, "I rest my case." 

She turned her back on Scrimgeour and walked back to Narcissa's side.

Remus held his breath.

Scrimgeour kept his eyes cast down on the wand. He turned it over again and again, as if he was trying to make some sense of everything.

Finally, he looked up, and cleared his throat.

"In light of evidence provided by Miss Nymphadora Tonks, and in light of the deaths of Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Grayback," he said clearly, "the Ministry dismisses the charges against Narcissa Black Malfoy."

The courtroom erupted. Remus sprang to his feet with joy. Tonks looked slightly deflated, as if it had taken all of her strength to stand up before the court and give her evidence. Narcissa stood stock-still, her eyes fixed on Remus. They blazed with something he didn't comprehend.

Scrimgeour was continuing, "The charges brought to Draco Lucius Malfoy will be altered to suit the results of this hearing, and his arraignment will be set for a later date."

As the Wizengamot began to file out of the courtroom, Remus walked over to Tonks. She looked up at him with expressionless eyes.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"I didn't do it for you," she replied, "I did it for my mother."

She looked over at Narcissa, who was staring at Remus with that same look in her eyes. Tonks looked away. The pain of losing Remus was still fresh.

"My mother loved her sisters," she said, "Both of them."

"Thank you," Remus whispered again.

Tonks managed a single sad smile. She turned and exited the courtroom.

Remus turned to Narcissa, who looked stunned. They were the only two left in the courtroom.

"Hey," he said softly, "It's over. You're free. We can go see Draco."

She was staring at him still, the whites visible around the deep blue of her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

Her lips parted; she ran her tongue over them for a moment, before whispering:

"It was you."

"What do you mean?" Remus asked.

Narcissa shook her head.

"You – it was you. That night on the Astronomy Tower."

Remus felt chills skating up his spine. He had been waiting twenty years for this moment. But he'd never quite believed it would happen.

Narcissa was still speaking.

"I was crying – and you followed me. You followed me up to the top of the Astronomy Tower. You brought me my scarf – my Slytherin scarf. I dropped it in the snow."

"Yes," Remus whispered.

"And you didn't want to be with me," Narcissa continued, her eyes still wide, sparkling with tears, "because you were a werewolf, and I – I didn't care."

Remus nodded. The lump in his throat was huge.

Narcissa's voice caught, "And then – you pushed me away – you didn't want me anymore – because you thought I gave your ring back."

Remus was speaking now, and the voice was not his own, "Bellatrix – and Lucius – thought up a plan to make me believe you didn't love me anymore – that you broke our engagement to be with him."

"I would never do such a thing," Narcissa whispered.

"I know – I know!" Remus' voice caught now. His arms went around her waist, "But I couldn't believe – that someone like you – could ever love someone like me."

He was blinded by his own tears now. She was fading in and out; he could barely see her.

"I let you go. I let the best part of me walk out with Lucius Malfoy – and I didn't go after you," he whispered.

"No," Narcissa said.

"What?"

"No – you did." Her eyes widened, "I remember – you came after me. I saw you – running across the lawn, at Lucius' house. And I knew – in that moment."

Her eyes were sparkling with tears.

"I knew that you really loved me."

Remus was crying now, crying as he hadn't since he was young. And the dreams he'd kept hidden inside for so long were bursting to the surface. Because now Narcissa's arms were around his neck, and Narcissa's lips were against his. And she was kissing him, and this was Narcissa – Narcissa! – not anyone else. He shuddered and clung to her, praying that when the kiss ended, he wouldn't be forced to wake up.

She pulled away, and he opened his eyes.

She was real, standing before him, as she had been twenty years ago. The long blonde hair, faithfully hiding strands of silver. The huge blue eyes, reflecting pain and suffering – but above everything else, love. That beautiful face, tender with motherhood and the tracks of a thousand tears. She was there. She was real.

And just as Remus thought nothing could be better than this, she whispered the words he'd been waiting so long to hear:

_"I love you, Remus."_

He closed his eyes, kissed her again and again.

"I love you, too. Oh, God, I love you so much. Can you ever forgive me? Can you?"

She nodded through her tears.

"I forgave you the minute I saw you running towards me at Lucius'. I forgave everything."

He kissed her again, then pulled away.

"I need to ask you, before anything else happens," he said.

Her same slightly crooked smile lit up her face. He was lost all over again.

"What?" she asked.

He took a deep breath.

"Narcissa," he asked, "will you marry me?"


	20. Father of Mine

When Narcissa and Remus arrived at St. Mungo's, they found the hospital still and quiet. It was almost five in the evening. It had been nearly twelve hours since they had brought Draco in.

The waiting room was full, to their surprise. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there, with Bill and Fleur, who were clutching hands worriedly. Ron was staring off into space with a pensive look on his face. Hermione's eyes were very red. Harry was standing next to the window, clutching the ledge so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Ginny was the first to see them. "Mum," she called.

Mrs. Weasley turned. Her own eyes were as red as Hermione's.

Narcissa managed one word, "Draco?"

Mrs. Weasley touched her hand gently, "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

The color drained from Narcissa's face, "But – but the Healer said he was going to be all right."

"He was," Mr. Weasley broke in, "But when he woke up – when he found out that he was – and then when he asked for you, and we had to tell him you'd been taken into custody – well, he just sort of gave up." He looked helpless.

Narcissa, trembling, grabbed Remus for support, "He's not dead?"

"No, he's not," Mrs. Weasley replied, "but he's very weak. The healers don't have much hope. It doesn't look good for him."

"I need to go to him," Narcissa said, pushing herself forward.

Remus grabbed her, "No! Think, Narcissa! In another few minutes or so, the moon is going to rise. It's already dark outside. Draco will be turning into a werewolf – and it will be horrible."

"Can't they give him a Wolfsbane potion?" Hermione piped up, rubbing her eyes.

Remus looked at her sadly, "I'm afraid it doesn't work like that. You've got to take it for a day or two before the full moon for it to reach its full potency. No, Draco's going to suffer the full transformation."

He looked at Mr. Weasley, "He's in an isolation room, I assume?"

Mr. Weasley nodded, "The healers thought it best."

"I'm going in there," Remus said.

Everyone stiffened; Remus looked around at them each in turn.

"I'm not going to let him suffer through this alone," he said.

Narcissa's eyes were huge. He managed a crooked smile at her, and then strode determinedly through the double doors to the private wing.

* * *

Draco was sleeping when he entered the room. He heard the lock click as the Healers locked him inside. He knew that there wasn't much time – they would both be transforming in a matter of minutes. He would have to be locked in with Draco for the night. 

Already, he could see the change in the boy. Draco was not the handsome, vibrant young man he'd been only twenty four hours before. His shining white-blonde hair had darkened to ash, and his skin was a pallid gray color. The wound on his neck had been bandaged, and was no longer bleeding. But Draco looked a year older and frailer than Remus could ever have imagined him. He did not look like the son of Lucius Malfoy now.

Remus reached out and touched the boy's hand. Draco's eyes opened.

"What are you doing here?" he asked faintly, "Where's Mother?"

"You're mother is fine," Remus answered, "She's better than she's ever been."

Draco struggled to sit up, "She's not going to prison, then?"

"No," Remus said, "The Wizengamot cleared her of all charges. Don't sit up – you will exhaust yourself further."

He was alarmed at the rate that Draco seemed to be fading.

Draco's head fell backwards onto the pillows, as if he couldn't stand to hold it up any longer. His eyes had a glazed look to them. They slid in and out of focus. Remus took his hand, hesitantly at first, and then held it between his, the way a father would with his sick son. He had thought it would feel awkward, but now, it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Draco," he said, "I know what you must be feeling."

Draco's breathing was faint, "This time, I think you might be right."

Remus tried to smile at the boy's irony. "You can't give up now, even though I know you must want to."

"They said I was getting better," Draco murmured faintly, "But I – I don't feel as if I am."

"It's going to be nightfall soon," Remus replied, "You'll have your first transformation."

"No," Draco protested weakly, "No. I can't let this happen."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," Remus said, "I know you're frightened. I know exactly what you must be feeling. But you have no choice anymore."

Draco closed his eyes, "I can't do this. I just can't."

"Yes, you can," Remus replied, squeezing his hand between his, "And you're going to."

"My mother – "

"Your mother is sitting right outside," Remus told him, "In the waiting room. She'll be here to see you in the morning, when it is safe. But for now, you have to rest."

"You have to promise me – that you'll protect her," Draco managed.

"She doesn't need protecting anymore," Remus replied, "She remembered everything."

From the depths of Draco's gray eyes, a faint light shone. He managed a small smile.

"She – loved you," he choked out.

Remus gripped his hand, "Draco, no. Listen to me. You're going to get through this. I promise you, I'm not going to leave you."

Draco's eyes widened, "What?"

Remus said forcefully, "I promised your father, and your mother, and now I'm promising you. If it takes me the rest of my life, I will protect you. I will stand by you no matter what you do."

"Why are you helping me?" Draco gasped, "Is it just – just because of my mother?"

"No," Remus shook his head, "It is because I remember what it is like – to be seventeen – to be a werewolf – and to think you are alone."

Draco did not say anything else – the moon was rising, the pain was upon him now, and he could not manage to speak. But his eyes showed the gratitude that he could not convey in words. Remus held onto his hand.

And then Draco began to scream in pain. Hairs like knives pushed through the surface of his skin. Remus could feel himself changing as well, although he'd grown so accustomed to the sensation that it no longer bothered him as much as it had. But poor Draco had never endured something like this. He screamed and screamed.

"Hold on, Draco," Remus muttered, putting his head near the teenager's ear.

"Oh my God!" Draco screamed, "It hurts! Oh, please, it hurts so much!"

"I know!" Remus muttered.

As Draco's fingers slid into the palms of his hand, becoming paws, he clawed at Remus' hand one more time, "Don't leave me!" he screamed.

And then he was a wolf, still lying on the bed, still too hurt to fight, too weak to even get to his feet, or to fight Remus. Had he been alone, the mental anguish and anxiety would have been too much for him – he might have scratched and bit himself, or thrown himself against the wall, bashing his head to bits.

But Remus, also a wolf, nudged him down to the floor. Panting with pain, Draco the wolf curled up into the corner, and Remus lay beside him. Draco began to weakly paw the bandages from his neck, but Remus nudged him, licking the bandages back into place. Draco rested his wolf's head on the floor, closed his eyes. Remus rested his own shaggy head against his, and closed his eyes in relief.

* * *

When the sun rose, Draco awoke, still lying on the floor, his limbs intact and his body back to normal. Remus, leaning against the wall, was still awake, but so tired he looked as though he might fall asleep himself. 

Draco raised his head and looked at Remus. Remus blinked his tired blue eyes and managed a smile.

"Don't worry," he said, "I'm not going anywhere anymore."

Draco managed a tentative smile and leaned up against the wall next to him. His limbs felt as weak as water. Remus seemed to understand. He picked Draco up like a young child and lifted him back onto the bed. Draco's gray eyes fluttered, and he began to slide back into sleep.

"Draco?"

His eyes opened. Remus was looking at him concernedly.

"You have to keep going on," he said softly, "for your mother's sake, if for nothing else. She was willing to go to prison for you. She was willing to die for you. Please," Remus murmured, "you have to go on living for her."

"Promise me you'll stay," Draco replied, not caring if the words sounded childish.

Remus brushed his hair back, "You know I will."

Draco smiled faintly back at him.

Remus strode to the door and threw it open. Unbidden, Narcissa rushed in, over to the bed, and grasped her son's hand.

"Draco? Can you hear me?" she whispered.

Draco's face broke into a weak smile, "Mum." His voice was so faint, Remus could hardly hear it.

Narcissa smiled through her tears and touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers, "I'm here, sweetheart, I'm here. You're going to be all right, understand?" She let out a shuddering sob, "You get well, okay, baby? I love you so much."

Draco smiled faintly up at her.

Then he closed his eyes.


	21. Epilogue: A New Sunrise

"Has the Wizengamot reached a decision?"

Griselda Marchbanks stood up, "We have, Minister."

"Then will the defendant please rise?"

Draco Lucius Malfoy, eighteen years old, stood up nervously and squared his shoulders. Remus Lupin stood up beside him, trying to quash the urgent feeling in his chest. Everything is going to be fine, he kept telling himself.

The difficult part was believing it.

Griselda Marchbanks cleared her throat and looked at Draco over the edge of her spectacles.

"With the evidence given to the court by multiple witnesses, and on the advice of the Minister to drop the charges of Death Eater activity, attempted murder, and attempt to use the Unforgivable Curses. Therefore, of the charge of resisting Ministry arrest, we find the defendant, Draco Lucius Malfoy, guilty."

The crowd began to murmur. Draco's face broke into a look of amazed relief. Remus clapped him on the shoulder.

Rufus Scrimgeour rose, "We sentence the defendant to two years' probation and government by a Ministry-approved official. Remus Lupin, the Wizengamot has accepted your petition to act as guardian to Draco Malfoy. Are you still amicable to the position?"

"I am, Minister," Remus' voice was strong and clear.

"Court is adjourned," Scrimgeour declared.

Draco hugged Remus abruptly, then let go and smiled at the first row of the courtroom. Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley were all sitting there, grinning back at him. Draco walked over and was embraced by Mrs. Weasley. Remus felt his heart swell with pride.

In the past year, he'd watched Draco grow and change in a way that had shocked everyone who had ever known him. His appearance had changed noticeably – his ice-blonde Malfoy hair had darkened slightly to pale ashy color, and he had a more rugged look about him. But he'd grown stronger and tenderer in the past year.

As soon as he'd been healthy enough, the Ministry had summoned him to court and questioned him about his activity as a Death Eater, and about the murder of Albus Dumbledore. Remus had gone with him, and Draco had answered honestly and forthrightly. But the thing that had saved him in the end was his offer to provide the Ministry with something it had knowledge of before – the location of Voldemort's hidden headquarters.

The Ministry had conducted a raid, and several Death Eaters were captured and taken into custody. One of them was Bellatrix Lestrange's husband, Rodolphus. Unfortunately, as with all the times before, Voldemort had fled before they could apprehend him.

That was the next step.

Scrimgeour approached Remus and said in a low voice, "Are you still in earnest, Remus?"

Remus nodded, "We're leaving tomorrow morning – Draco, Harry, Ron, and I."

"Good, good," Scrimgeour replied. He cast an appraising glance in Draco's direction and commented, "You know, Lupin - if you'll forgive me - I knew Draco and Lucius of old, and since - well, since last year - there's not a hint of his father in that boy."

"Not so much anymore," Remus replied knowingly, "But I see a great deal of his mother in him."

* * *

Narcissa was waiting, sitting on the porch of 1722 Earlscourt Road, her knuckles practically white from nerves. When she saw them Apparate at the end of the walk, she leapt to her feet and ran down the steps of Remus' house, her whole face a question. 

"Mum," Draco shouted, running towards her, "the charges were dropped!"

Narcissa threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"I knew it!" she cried, "I knew they'd let you go after everything that's happened!"

"Two years' probation," Remus told her, ambling up behind him and giving her his crooked smile. Narcissa smiled at him, a smile reminiscent of her carefree days when she was seventeen years old, twenty-one years ago. The tiny diamond that Remus had given her all those years ago sparkled again on her wedding-ring finger.

He remembered how she'd cried with happiness when he'd given it to her last year, the night that Draco came home from the hospital. She couldn't believe that he'd saved it all those years.

"I couldn't bear to part with it," Remus had told her as he slipped it onto her finger.

Her eyes had shone that night like huge sapphires. But that night, there had still been the worry that her only child would be thrown into prison, or killed. Now, for the first time in so long, she was truly happy.

"I've got to go pack," Draco announced. He broke free from his mother's grasp and ran up the steps into the house.

Narcissa looked at Remus questioningly.

"I'm sorry," Remus told her, "I know I promised you that we'd be married as soon as Draco's trial was over."

"You're going away, aren't you?" Narcissa asked.

"First thing in the morning. I'm sorry it's such short notice, but I have a feeling that it's an unspoken condition of Draco's probation. We may not find the Dark Lord," Remus narrowed his eyes, "but we're certainly going to make a go at it."

Narcissa nodded, "I understand."

"Are you feeling better?" Remus asked, "Draco was surprised when you didn't go to the trial with us. Were you sick all morning?"

"I'm fine," Narcissa said, "But there's something I have to tell you."

"What?" Remus asked.

But as he looked at the mischievous smile that crept across her face, he realized what she meant.

"You're not – you can't be," he stammered, grabbing her hands, "Narcissa, are you serious?"

She nodded, her grin as bright as sunlight.

Remus' eyes widened.

"Is that okay?" she asked.

"Okay?" Remus stammered, "I can't believe it. We're – well, is it a boy or a girl?"

"Goose!" Narcissa slapped his hand, "I can't tell what it is yet. It's far too early."

Remus' eyes were as big as saucers. Narcissa laughed.

"Oh, you have a lot to learn about children!" she giggled, "But it will be all right. You'll see."

"But I – Narcissa, I can't leave you now," he told her, "I'll tell Scrimgeour that we're not leaving tomorrow."

"You mustn't do that," she interrupted, "I've had a baby before; I know what to do. This is far more important than me right now. You've got the opportunity to save everyone in our world, Remus. And that's more important than anything you would be doing here."

Remus looked imploring, "Cissa."

"No," she insisted, silencing him with her hand, "Remus, the most important thing you can do right now is go with them. Look out for Draco. It's what you promised to do – to the Ministry, and to his father." She smiled at him and kissed him lightly, "We'll be waiting for you when you return."

"I will come back to you," Remus promised, grasping her hands in his.

"I know," Narcissa replied, smiling, "You always have."

* * *

The next morning dawned clear and cold. Remus, Draco, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had assembled on the front lawn of 1722 Earlscourt Road. 

At the last minute, Hermione and Ginny had beaten everyone down and insisted on coming as well.

"I told you," Ginny said to Harry, "I'm not letting you go. Imagine what sorts of trouble you could get into without me."

Harry rolled his eyes, "There's just no fighting with them, is there?" he asked Ron.

"I'm telling you, mate," Ron replied, "We're well shook of them." Hermione cuffed him upside the head but said nothing.

Narcissa was tucking some last-minute odds and ends into Draco's knapsack and issuing an endless stream of motherly warnings, most of which Draco was brushing off with good-natured and embarrassed mutterings of, "Mum, get off, I'll be fine!"

"I know," she replied, "Humor me, all right?" She hugged him tightly, "Please, please be careful. Come home safe."

"I will, Mum," Draco replied honestly, hugging her back. "And I'll take good care of Remus as well, shall I?"

Remus cuffed him upside the head. Draco snickered and ambled over to Ron and Harry, who grinned at him. The three of them began chatting amicably. Remus and Narcissa were alone.

Remus' eyes swept over her. After twenty-one years, she still was as beautiful as ever, if not more so. Was it just his imagination, or was there a tiny bump already forming around her midsection?

"What are you staring at me for?" Narcissa teased as she slid her arms around his waist.

Remus grinned, "I want to carry the memory of you in my mind, just like this, the entire time I'm gone."

"Oh, don't," Narcissa protested, "It's six in the morning, and my hair is a mess, and I'm half-dressed."

"You've never looked more beautiful," Remus interrupted.

Narcissa's brave face faltered somewhat. She stood up on tiptoe and kissed him long on the lips. The teenagers tactfully pretended not to see.

When they broke apart, Remus opened his eyes and looked straight into her sapphire ones.

"Be careful," he murmured.

"You be even more so," she replied, "I'll be right here waiting when you get back."

Remus kissed her hair lightly, "I love you, Narcissa."

"And I love you."

He broke away from her and walked back over to the others, "Come on, kids, let's get moving."

They moved away together, down the walkway, towards the darkness where the sun had barely lit. At the end of the walk, as they stood together to Disapparate, Remus looked back for one final glance.

Narcissa stood there watching him, backlit by the rising sun, her beautiful face composed with beauty, pride, and hope, reflecting happiness at long last.

THE END


End file.
